


Beyond and Again

by In_Dreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Magic, Death Magic, F/M, Healing and Recovery, M/M, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Character Death, Reconciliation, Romance, Sexual Content, Unspeakable Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/pseuds/In_Dreams
Summary: An obscure form of death magic reveals information about not one but two long lost brothers. And Hermione wasn't prepared for the sudden intrusion of Regulus Black in her life.
Relationships: Regulus Black/Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 446
Kudos: 944
Collections: Magical Methods





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Hey everyone! This is my first foray into a non-Dramione multi-chapter fic for many years so I hope you enjoy it! This story is completely written in ten parts and will be updated every few days. 
> 
> Mega-hugs to LadyKenz347 for her alpha reading and encouragement with this story. Edits and any mistakes are my own.

Hermione Granger had long been used to hearing voices, not all of them her own.

For years following the end of the second wizarding war, she had been haunted by memories and recollections of her past experiences, both in her waking and sleeping hours. But as time passed, even the darkest of those memories at last quieted, their visits reserved for rare occasions.

Often she heard only her own voice, overactive in the distant reaches of her mind. Questioning the merit of her decisions on a convoluted, consistent loop.

And as an Unspeakable who had spent three years studying the origins and finalities of life in the Death Chamber, she was plagued with the voices of those ghosts, too.

The unceasing whispers echoing from beyond the veil had become an endless symphonic accompaniment to her daily tasks. The voices of those who had passed to the other side, calling out to her and begging her to hear their pleas.

Most of the time, Hermione was able to tune them out as background noise.

Invariably, they grew loudest at Samhain, when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. So she had heard, strange things sometimes occurred in the chamber in the dead of night.

But every so often—so infrequent as to catch her attention when it happened—one of the voices would shift.

She couldn't say with any certainty why such a shift would occur, but it was one of the things she spent her time in the chamber studying.

And even rarer still were the threads—barely a filament—that would reach out from within the veil.

Blood tethers, the Lead Unspeakable had called them, when Hermione had first begun her studies in the Death Chamber, buried in the deep recesses of the Department of Mysteries. The faint, unknown element by which some transitory souls still clung to the mortal world.

No one knew why and how one would originate, often without any due cause, only that they were incredibly rare and signified one thing: a singular chance for the passed soul to be revived with a limited window. And if the opportunity were to be cast aside, the tether withdrawn, the chance would be lost.

Only twice had Hermione seen a blood tether in person. And twice, the opportunity had been missed.

So when there was a shift in one particular voice, accompanied by the faint shrill cry of a blood tether, Hermione's eyes snapped to the veil, her heart leaping into her throat even as she froze to the spot.

She was the only Unspeakable present in the chamber, the air around her stifling with the sudden imposition of such an unexpected occurrence. With caution, she crept closer to the veil, drawing her wand. If she were to startle the tether, it could retreat and be lost.

Sure enough, she could see the faintly glowing filament—barely wider than a strand of hair—and she ducked in, peering closer still. Casting a magnifying spell, Hermione observed the tether to be dark grey, almost black, and her gaze followed the meandering trail of it across the floor, and onto the steps leading away from the veil towards the chamber entrance.

From there, the process of tracking the familial link would grow more complicated, as a blood tether couldn't be physically sustained beyond the magical atmosphere of the Death Chamber.

Sucking in a deep breath, she cast several detection spells meant to determine the bloodline of the traveller.

"No," she whispered to herself, eyes widening as the results came through with a tremour to her wand. In several more attempts, the results coming back conclusive, Hermione grew faint.

The results etched themselves into the floor; her wand fell to the stone with a clatter.

* * *

"The tether is House of Black alright," Rocky Sullivan, the supervising Unspeakable in the Death Chamber, murmured, adjusting his glasses.

Hermione felt her heart jump into her throat at the confirmation, nerves fluttering in her stomach. "Where has it come from?"

"It's hard to say," Sullivan mused, carefully stepping away from the veil. "Sometimes there's no trigger for it. The most important thing to worry about for the time being is _who_ the tether is reaching for. Because without knowing that, there's no sense in having a conversation about it at all."

Swallowing, Hermione nodded, retreating to her work station. "I've located a Black family tree." Pausing, she eyed Sullivan for a moment. "How long do you suppose the tether will stick around?"

"Days," Sullivan said, waving an idle hand, "weeks, sometimes months. Longest I've ever seen was four months. Shortest was twelve hours."

Urgency danced across her skin and raced as adrenaline in her veins as she nodded, gesturing towards the family tree. "Ten years ago, Sirius Black fell through the veil." Sullivan hummed, circling around to peer over her shoulder as she continued. "He has two surviving first cousins, Andromeda Tonks, and Narcissa Malfoy—"

"No," Sullivan interrupted, clicking his tongue. "The familial link between cousins isn't strong enough to produce a blood tether. It'll have to be an immediate family member."

Hermione frowned, a deep furrow rising on her brow. "His parents are both dead."

"This one," Sullivan muttered, jamming a finger onto the image. A youthful, scowling face, with scruffy black hair reminiscent of Sirius' before he had passed. "A brother?"

Hesitating for a moment, a flicker of memories chasing through the back of her mind, recollections of a cursed locket, Hermione shook her head. "Regulus Black—his brother—has been dead for over twenty years. Former Death Eater."

Silence descended upon the pair of them. Tapping his fingers on the bench, Sullivan shook his head. "Then there's someone else—or something you're missing. The tether can't lie."

Hermione's eyes lingered for a long moment on the hand-drawn sketch of Regulus Black.

_R.A.B._

The boy who had joined the Death Eaters as a student at Hogwarts, and later came to regret his decision. Enough so that he had begun their work of dismantling Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes, years before they had even heard of them. A boy who had paid for his decisions with his young life.

A breath hitched in her throat and she corrected in a whisper, "He was _presumed_ dead, over twenty years ago."

With a grimace, Sullivan met her eyes. "Maybe he's less dead than you thought." Tapping once more on the page, he added, "Find him, Granger. This is our first shot in a long time to activate a blood tether."

Although Hermione knew Unspeakable Sullivan's interest in the situation stemmed from the idea of the plethora of potential discoveries that would arise from seeing a blood tether through, she couldn't help the thought from jarring around her skull that it could be a chance to save Sirius as well.

Her eyes drifted across the chamber to where the faint ringing of the tether still echoed, its thread so thin she couldn't see it from a distance.

"Yes, sir," she whispered, "I'll do my best."

* * *

Spanning the years since the war had ended, Hermione often found the only constant in her life to be the presence of one Harry Potter.

Once the heat of the battle had cooled, she had been forced to come to terms with the fact that she no longer harboured any true romantic feelings for Ron—and in later years she had come to reflect that they had never _really_ been well aligned—but it had left her on the outs with the entirety of the Weasley clan as a result. Even now, she often felt awkward when in the presence of the large and overbearing family.

Her own parents, while still alive and well in Brisbane, remained in blissful ignorance of the fact that they had a grown daughter. They'd adopted a child two years after the war ended, and it had been a difficult pill for Hermione to swallow when she learned from the healers who continued to monitor her parents' condition in Australia. It still was, some days.

At the time when she had cast the memory charm, she hadn't known whether it would be reversible.

She didn't regret the decision, but persistently questioned it more than any other she had made in her life. Periodically, she still checked in on them, though they would never remember her. And her heart broke more with each visit, watching the young brother grow up who would never know her.

Upon entering the Ministry of Magic, Hermione had floated, adrift, until she had settled on the Department of Mysteries and thrown herself into her work. Completing Unspeakable training had been one of the most challenging but rewarding tasks she had undertaken.

Mentally, emotionally, and physically, her job was demanding in ways she hadn't anticipated, but often it was the only thing she had.

Through everything, Harry had been at her side. He was the most genuine friend she had ever known, and had proven himself time and again since their first year at Hogwarts.

And this—the knowledge of a potential way to save Sirius Black—would be the most difficult secret to keep from Harry in particular. While he knew she couldn't speak about her work, and as an Auror he understood the sentiment, sometimes Hermione wished she could simply tell him everything at their weekly dinner dates.

But this was a path she would need to face without him.

Two days after her discovery of the House of Black blood tether, Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place for dinner.

The house had felt different ever since Harry and Ginny broke up, but that had been two years ago already. She knew Harry was over his youthful fling, and in a way, it gave the pair of them a certain camaraderie, because Harry was no longer particularly welcome at Weasley family gatherings, either.

Hermione suspected he had been seeing someone, but he hadn't told her yet and she wasn't willing to pry. Not when he'd never pushed her, when she usually had no interest in casual, meaningless dating.

But now, knowing what she had learned about Sirius Black—and about the possibility that Regulus Black hadn't died in that cave after all—being in the house awoke a different sentiment altogether.

"Hermione," Harry said, tugging her into his embrace as soon as she'd crossed the threshold, and when he drew back, he wore a large grin. "It has been a week, let me tell you—I'm glad you see you."

"Same," she murmured, feeling an unexpected sting of moisture as she gazed upon the bright green in his eyes, and she pulled him in for another hug. "It's good to see you."

The next morning, she would make an effort at tracking the reaches of the blood tether, without any frame of reference for how it would go or what she might find at the other end. But if Regulus Black _was_ alive and he'd somehow managed to keep his existence secret for so many years, it would likely be the only way to find him.

Even Unspeakable Sullivan hadn't known the details, since an accessible tether was such a rarity. But in principle the idea of it sounded simple enough.

Hermione had grown used to relying on her magic and her instinct—two things that she would need for this forthcoming task.

Something akin to mischief shone in Harry's green eyes as he drew back, staring at her. His lips twitched with a hint of a smile. "I have something to tell you—I hope it's alright that I invited someone else for dinner tonight as well."

Despite her surprise, Hermione offered him a grin. "I was wondering when this would come up." Scoffing, she added, "Of _course_ it's alright. You know that."

The flush of colour in his cheeks was endearing.

From around the wall that led from the sitting room into the kitchen, a third joined them, rubbing at the back of his neck. Theodore Nott—a former Slytherin from their year, and someone Hermione had seen now and again around the Ministry, but didn't know personally.

Flashing the pair of them a grin, Hermione ignored Theo's proffered hand and pulled him into an embrace as well. While the man stood stunned in her hold, she drew back, and tossed over her shoulder at Harry, "It's like you thought I didn't already know."

With an uneasy chuckle, Harry slipped his hands into his pockets. "Alright then. Shall we eat?"

* * *

When she really focused, Hermione often found it easy to slip into the essence of her magic. It was one of the things she enjoyed most about her work as an Unspeakable—rarely did they work in formulas or spellcasting, but in the abstract and convoluted.

The tasks which required her to push everything else away were the ones she often coveted.

Dialing in on the magic of the blood tether, allowing it to infuse with her own, she followed it from the Department of Mysteries on level nine of the Ministry, up to the street above in Whitehall, and away.

She had no idea where the tether would lead, or how far, and all Sullivan had been able to tell her was that she would know when she arrived at the other end.

Which meant she could be following it for days.

Hermione had packed a small assortment of necessities into her old trusty beaded bag, hopeful it would be enough. The sun was warm in the sky as she followed the tether along the road, idly wondering how far she would be meant to walk, and she slipped a pair of sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose.

Her work had led her down _stranger_ paths, to be certain.

After a while, she began to detect the distinct magical tone of the tether, and when she ducked between two buildings and attempted a short-distance Apparition, she was relieved to find the glowing signature still present when she reemerged.

For several hours, she followed the tether in this fashion, testing and stretching the limits of her own magic. It was almost enough to push her nerves to the back of her mind.

She had no idea what sort of a situation she was heading into. Regulus Black had been dead since she was a baby, and now, twenty-five years later, there was a chance he was still alive. It had been difficult enough to wrap her head around the idea of it alone, but now to consider the fact that she would have to attempt to persuade him to return to the wizarding world at long last.

As the tether broached the outskirts of London, Hermione felt a frisson of nerves. It was never likely that Regulus would have stayed in London, given the threat to his life that had existed so implicitly at the time. But decades had passed, and she could only imagine how far he had gone.

The magic drew her outwards into the countryside in a slight tug to the southeast towards the sea, and Hermione drew a map of England from her bag, utilising a quick charm to determine her location.

Cautiously, she tested the tether still further, stretching out her Apparitions to best account for distance while maintaining the connection with her own magic.

The sun bore down on her from high in the sky, indicating mid-afternoon, and she began to wonder whether the magic of the tether would still linger if she had to stop overnight. Furthermore, the issue began to weigh heavily in her mind that if he were overseas, she might not be able to track the tether any further than the coast.

But as she carried on further still, the map indicating she was in East Sussex, the magic began to gradually strengthen. At first she hadn't been certain, the tether still casting a delicate play of magic against her own, but when it began to intensify, a mixture of anticipation and nerves coiled within her chest.

Dialing in on the magic, Hermione continued to follow until she felt the hum of the tether as if it were within her, and she found she no longer had to focus on anything but the faint whisper dragging her along.

And all at once the magic stopped.

A slight breeze played upon the air, tempering the heat of the sun blazing overhead, and she could taste a hint of salt from the sea as it rolled in on the distant southern shores.

Her heart raced an anxious cadence within her chest as Hermione carefully folded her map and tucked it away, steeling herself with a long, deep breath.

Stowing her wand into her pocket within quick reach, Hermione took in her surroundings. The map indicated she was near a town, but she was clearly still in the countryside. But just within her view, towards the town, was a lone building.

Opting to travel the rest of the way on foot, she kept vigilant as she ventured towards the building—a cottage, she noticed as she drew near. A cobbled path led towards a white gate, its paint peeling in a few spots, but the landscaping of the front garden was green and lush, bright flowers in bloom.

It was quite lovely, and she found the enticing beauty of the property implicitly at odds with the warning in her spirit.

She could no longer hear or sense the tether, and she wasn't certain if it was a good thing, or if she had merely arrived.

"You lost?" a voice called, and Hermione flinched viciously, her gaze snapping to the sound of the voice. "I apologise—didn't mean to startle you."

Hermione could only gape as a man walked towards her, even as her heart sank. The man had dark hair and a several-days thick layer of stubble, but he couldn't have been much older than thirty. He was younger than Regulus Black would have been by at least a decade, and she found herself schooling her disappointed reaction with a thick swallow.

"Hello," she said with a sharp nod, proffering a hand. "My name is Hermione Granger."

It occurred to her in that moment, as the man's gaze swept her less than immaculate condition, that she'd been traipsing through the countryside for hours in the blazing sun.

"If you're looking for Heathfield, you're too far east."

Awkwardly allowing her extended hand to drop, Hermione fastened a smile to her lips. "Thank you. Actually, I'm looking for the owner of this property."

The man scowled. "It's not for sale, if that's why you're asking. You'd not be the first."

The cottage ahead of them was lovely as well, rustic but tidy, with dark wood panelling and large, airy windows.

Sucking in a deep breath, Hermione shook her head, attempting a different tactic. "Do you live here?"

His face twisting into an unfriendly grimace, the man's eyes bore into hers. "Why are you asking these questions?"

Something about the defensiveness in his tone spiked her adrenaline and her instincts, and she stared hard at him. "Will you please tell me your name?"

"Name's Roscoe." He folded his arms, the thick muscle of his biceps tightening below the sleeves of his t-shirt, and Hermione allowed her gaze to flicker only for a moment. "Tyler Roscoe."

"Of course," she breathed, attempting a thin smile. "I must be mistaken. Perhaps someone else used to live here?"

"Nope." He snapped the 'p' sound sharply on his lips, lifting a derisive brow. "Pretty certain you're just lost. Like I said, Heathfield is that way." As he hooked a thumb over his shoulder, the look on his face suggested he was through talking with her.

When the man began to turn away from her, panic lanced through her veins and Hermione froze in place, eyes wide. She couldn't believe she had followed the tether this far for nothing.

Frantic, she breathed, "I'm looking for a man named Regulus Black."

Roscoe stopped mid-step, swivelling his face back towards her, expression unreadable. "Never heard of him."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, a hint of desperation bleeding into her tone. "It's just—I was informed he lived _here_ , and it's… it's imperative I speak with him."

As he circled slowly back to face her, Hermione was left with the distinct impression of staring down a predator. The man's eyes narrowed on her, his face dark, and if she were of a weaker constitution, she might have turned and ran.

"I don't know," he said, drawing out each word as if she were slow, "what the _fuck_ you're talking about. I would _highly_ suggest you get out of here."

A frisson of genuine fear chased down her spine, and she sucked in a breath with a shaky nod.

"Fine," she whispered, folding her arms across her front in a subliminal effort to protect herself. She had no desire to draw her wand unless she needed to. "I'll leave you alone. I'm sorry for the confusion."

Her eyes drifted from the tension in his shoulders, the slight clench of his hand, the tightness in his grey eyes.

Grey eyes, the exact shade of Sirius Black's.

Heart leaping in her chest, and a breath hitching in her throat, she continued to stare blankly at him.

At last she swallowed, and whispered, " _R.A.B._ "

For a moment so long and so tense Hermione didn't know what to make of it, he only stared back, his jaw clenched and expression stoic. Finally his gaze flickered down towards her pocket where her wand was stowed.

He ground out, "What did you say your name was?"

Squaring her shoulders in an effort to strengthen her resolve, she returned, "Hermione Granger."

"And who sent you?"

"No one." Hermione hesitated, shifting on the spot. "It's… complicated." Watching his face closely for any hint of recognition, she added, "I'm an Unspeakable with the Department of Mysteries."

When no surprise or confusion flickered across his face at her words, she felt a stirring of hope. But his expression remained hard on her as he folded his arms again, his entire stance screaming outright hostility.

He bit out, "How did you find me? Ministry sent you?"

Despite the inferred admission that he _was_ indeed Regulus Black, she couldn't understand how he looked so young. If he had cast any magic in the years since he had been presumed dead, _someone_ would have picked up on it and detected his magical signature. So it obviously wasn't a glamour.

"I'm not here on behalf of the DMLE, if that's what you're asking," she hedged carefully, as if anything she said could spook him. "The Department of Mysteries doesn't care about your past." His eyes tightened, as if with pain. "I'm here to speak with you about your brother, Sirius Black."

Regulus' expression hardened once more, his upper lip curling with a sneer, and he released a sound of disgust from deep in his throat. "My brother is dead."

"I know," Hermione whispered, "I was there when it happened."

It was the first thing she'd said that truly sparked a reaction, tension mingled with devastation tearing across his face before it went blank once more.

With a sharp breath, she went on. "There might be a way we can help him. But I'll need you to come to London with me."

Regulus huffed a humourless laugh, cold and unforgiving. "Not a chance."

Hermione ground her teeth, glaring at his flippant dismissal of her. "His _soul_ is reaching for you."

The man took a step towards her, so close she could see the hints of platinum and slate in his irises as he stared her down. The only concession to his age, despite his appearance, was a slight hint of silver in the dark hair at his temples. She felt a breath catch in her throat.

"Get the _fuck_ ," he growled, eyes searing with ire, "off my property."

The limits of her nerves all but expended, Hermione seethed at him for a long moment, heart pumping voraciously in her chest, before she spun on the spot and stalked away.


	2. Chapter 2

"Can't say I'm surprised to see you back here."

Hermione started, pausing as she approached Regulus' front gate. After their confrontation the day before, she had ventured into the town he'd referenced and found a small, welcoming Bed and Breakfast to spend the night.

Having woken up refreshed, and after a delicious breakfast with lovely company, she felt rejuvenated enough to try again.

She ventured up the walk, eyeing him closely. "And I can't say _I'm_ surprised to see you running."

His harsh stare snapped up to her approach, a sneer curling his upper lip as he sealed the flaps on a cardboard box. "I'm not running. This is my home—and you're trespassing."

Regulus' words lacked the ire of yesterday, replaced with a sort of frustrated resignation. And now that Hermione knew he _was_ in fact Regulus Black, she could hear hints of the pureblood affectation he must have grown up with, buried beneath years of common speech.

It was fascinating, to consider the fact that he had more or less been groomed from childhood to follow someone like Voldemort. Idly, she wondered what had caused such a shift, for him to defect at only eighteen and ultimately decide to sacrifice his life.

Drifting a step closer, Hermione peered into the nearest of a row of boxes. She'd originally thought him to be making a run for it, but on closer inspection of the contents, she frowned.

"What are these?" she asked, even as she drew a miniature carved horse from one of the boxes, hand-painted in impressive detail.

"Put it back," Regulus huffed, cautiously extracting the horse from her hand and wrapping it in packing kraft. "And don't touch."

Hermione had already reached into the next box, extracting a small wooden treasure chest with intricate details and hidden compartments. Turning towards him, her jaw fell open. "Did you _make_ all of these?"

Each box in the row contained an assortment of wooden handcrafted wares, and she found herself impressed by the intricacy of them, especially given the fact he likely would have considered manual labour beneath him for years.

"Excuse me, _what_ are you doing?" he snapped, grey eyes flashing, snatching the box from her grasp. "Put it back."

"You're awfully hostile for a person who sculpts miniature animal figurines." Folding her arms, Hermione leaned back against the railing of the short staircase leading towards his cottage. "What are you doing with those crafts?"

Scowling, as if her mere presence annoyed him, he clipped, "The fair is on today." Shoving past her, he threw over his shoulder, "I thought I made myself clear yesterday. I'm not going anywhere with you, and I'd appreciate it if you left me alone. Not sure how you even found me out here."

"I'm not leaving until you hear me out."

Regulus froze, setting another box down on the porch. His eyes narrowed but she stared him down, refusing to give in again.

As if greatly inconvenienced, he made a show of checking his watch, releasing a sigh. "You have _ten_ minutes. Come on, I'll make some tea."

Taking the offer as an invitation, Hermione followed him up the stairs and into the cottage. The decor was lovely, sparse but well put together, and she found the place to be welcoming and warm despite having such a rude resident.

He put a kettle on the stove, tossing a basket of loose tea varieties to the table while Hermione settled into a seat. When she plucked a tin from the assortment, he collected the basket and muttered gruffly, "Good choice."

They waited in an awkward, tense silence while he prepared the tea, putting out a proper tea service before taking a seat across from her.

As if the offering was as much as he was willing to give, Hermione helped herself and waited while he prepared his own, staring at her as he stirred milk into his cup.

"What's this about my brother, then?" he finally asked, taking a sip.

"It's complicated," Hermione hedged, trying to work out the best way to explain it.

" _Ten minutes_."

"Alright." Huffing, she folded her arms, scowling at him. "Ten years ago, Sirius fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries, as I'm sure you know—" She cut herself off at the look on his face, brows lifting. "You didn't know."

"I don't know anything about your world. All I know is that my brother died."

Hermione froze, setting her teacup carefully on its saucer. "You don't know… _anything_?"

Regulus' face faltered with a grimace, his brows knitting. "Nothing."

"Do you _want_ to know?"

Huffing a breath through his nose, he stared at her. "You called me R.A.B. Why?"

If she could rely on her own intuition, she thought she detected a hint of hope in his words. But she had been virtually unable to put a finger on him since they'd met the day before.

Hermione swallowed a sudden lump in her throat at the memory and choked out, "A locket. You stole a locket."

His expression remained carefully blank as he sipped his tea, and she forced herself to carry on. "My friend Harry—Harry Potter, you might have known his father, James—" Regulus' lip curled with disdain. "He and Professor Dumbledore recovered your replica."

"Dumbledore," Regulus murmured to himself, snickering. "How's the daft old codger."

"Dead, I'm afraid." Their eyes met for a moment before she glanced away. "He died, that same night. A potion he was forced to consume weakened him, and then Professor Snape…" She trailed off at the memory, swallowing. "Snape was the one who killed him."

Regulus stared, his expression that of mild bemusement, as if he couldn't quite comprehend any part of what she had just said. "So wait, the Dark Lord—"

"Also dead," she whispered. "Harry killed him after we hunted down the rest of his Horcruxes." Shaking her head in marvel, she caught his stare again. "You _really_ don't know about any of this?"

He merely echoed, "Dead," as if not quite able to believe it. Briefly, his gaze flickered to his forearm, where the Dark Mark must once have sat. "I'd wondered, of course, but…"

"But you left it all behind," Hermione surmised.

"I was dead," he bit out, tossing back the dregs of his tea. Belatedly, Hermione realised her own had gone cold. "As far as anyone knew. I wasn't supposed to get out of that cave—it was the perfect chance for a fresh start, as it were. Until _you_ arrived."

Cautious, in an effort not to disturb the temporary peace between them, she asked quietly, "How _did_ you get out? Everyone thought you'd died… even Kreacher—he was beside himself over the loss of his beloved Regulus when he told us about it years later."

"You know Kreacher?" He chuckled, but the sound was cold and stark. "Of course you do."

When she only stared at him, he poured himself another cup of tea, taking his time to stir in a careful measure of milk. "I didn't think I was going to. Hell, I'd gone in there having accepted it. I was in over my head and I just wanted out—but I wanted to do it on my own terms. That potion was…" He gave an involuntary shudder. "I _should_ have died, and I nearly did in that blasted lake of inferi. My heart stopped long enough to register on the tapestry, anyways."

Hermione was caught, fixated on his words, a breath held tight in her chest.

But he brushed off the sentiment, rolling his eyes. "Blasted Kreacher, never could leave me behind. He took the locket away, and came back for me. I fed him the story he was to share, forbade him from telling anyone I'd survived, and took off. That's about it."

Blowing out a breath, Hermione topped up her own cold cup of tea. "If you didn't know any of this, how did you know Sirius died, then?"

Regulus eyed her with something akin to disdain, but he rose from his seat and rummaged in one of the cupboard drawers, before brandishing something. Peering closer, Hermione realised it was a small torn cloth portion of the Black family tree.

"I had to be certain they'd accepted my death. Only thing I took from home."

It was similar to the one she'd found when tracing the Black lineage for the blood tether, but she knew it to be an identical, albeit smaller, version of the tree that hung on the wall in Grimmauld Place.

Tracing the line to the end, she saw the aligned faces of Regulus and Sirius, both crossed out in death.

"Now," Regulus prompted, and she could tell by the tone of his voice that they were done sharing recollections of the past. "You're going to tell me about my brother, and how you found me."

The statement brokered little room for argument, and he had been more forthcoming than she had anticipated, so she looked him square in the eye. "I told you yesterday I'm an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. I study life and death in the Death Chamber, and—"

"Thought you weren't supposed to tell anyone what you do down there," he snickered, as if to himself.

Hermione frowned at him. "You're directly involved." After a moment, she carried on. "There's a very obscure form of death magic called a _blood tether_. They're incredibly rare, and as a result, we don't understand the magic of how they form. But every so often, one appears, and it is, in essence, the physical embodiment of a passed soul reaching back to someone in the land of the living."

She watched Regulus' throat bob with a swallow, his grey eyes flicking up to hers.

Drawing in a deep breath, Hermione concluded, "The magic of the tether led me here."

"And Sirius? On the other side?"

"I'll be honest with you—I can't make any promises. But there is a _chance_ Sirius can be recovered."

Thick, roiling tension fell over the small kitchen, but Hermione couldn't force herself to tear her gaze from his. At last he choked, hoarse, "Recovered? Like brought _back_? In what form?"

"Brought back," she echoed with a faltering nod. "But we aren't certain on the details, or how exactly it works. It's… all quite experimental."

Regulus leaned back in his seat, clicking his tongue. "So for all you know, it could be a shell of his body and he could decide to subsist on human brains."

Hermione gaped at the mental image. "You've been watching too many Muggle films, I think."

For the first time since she'd met him, a flicker of something like genuine amusement played across his lips, but quickly dropped off. "Hermione—I'd like to help you. And believe me, if you sounded a little more certain about _actually_ being able to help Sirius, I'd come. But for all I know, I'll come to London with you and wind up thrown in Azkaban. No thanks."

"Look," she began, thinning her lips. "I know it sounds hard to believe, but that's the way of things in the Department of Mysteries. There simply _aren't_ concrete answers. And we don't operate the same way the rest of the Ministry does. If you agree to help with this, my supervisor in the department has the power to grant you a full pardon for any past Death Eater activity. You'd be free to operate within the wizarding world again."

Regulus only sneered at the idea. "I have no interest in that."

Holding up her hands, she shook her head. "Fine. Then you'll be free to return here to your cottage and your wooden crafts, and I'll not bother you again."

"Shit," he hissed, glancing down at his watch, gaze snapping back up to her. "I've got to get to town." Rising from his seat, he hastily gathered the dishes into the sink, sweeping a hand through his thick hair. "Look, love, you've just dropped a _bomb_ , and I need to think about this."

Her stomach twisted unexpectedly at the casual endearment and she nodded.

"Of course," she breathed. "I just… you need to know the tether is only active for a limited time. It could be months, but it could be weeks, or even days. Just so you know."

Hermione could see the war waging on his face, and she suspected the only reason he was even still entertaining her, after their abysmal first meeting the day before, was because of Sirius.

Because Merlin knew, if she had a chance to recover her parents, she would have done it.

Without a word he vanished down a corridor leading away from the kitchen, and returned a few minutes later with a knapsack slung over his shoulder. He was more agitated than she had ever seen him as she followed him back out of the house, watching as he began loading the boxes he'd been preparing before into the backseat of a late model black convertible, its roof already lowered.

"Let me guess," he huffed, organising his wares, "you're one of those witches who refuses to take Muggle transportation."

Staring hard at him, she deadpanned, "My parents are dentists."

His face snapped towards hers, brows low. "You're Muggle-born?" He snickered, carrying on with his work. "Walburga would have _loved_ you."

Despite herself, she tittered. "That she decidedly does not—her portrait, anyways. My friend Harry lives in Grimmauld Place; Sirius was his godfather."

"Potter, yeah?" Regulus squinted in the sunlight for a moment before shaking his head. "Always was a bit of a git. Hope he didn't rub off on your friend."

"James and Lily are dead," she intoned quietly. "Voldemort killed them when Harry was just a baby."

"Fuck," Regulus choked on an exhale. "The old gang didn't age well, did they? What about Moony and Wormtail?" When she didn't respond but to look away, pressing her lips into a thin grimace, he sighed. "Let me guess: dead."

"Peter Pettigrew betrayed Lily and James," she mused. "Gave up their location to Voldemor and Sirius ended up taking the fall. Remus didn't survive the final battle, with his wife Tonks. _Your_ cousin's daughter."

He blew out a long breath. "Sketchy bastard," Regulus snipped, the bridge of his nose wrinkling, "not that I have any room to talk, of course."

Hermione hadn't been certain how to broach that particular subject—the small fact that he had become a Death Eater even before leaving Hogwarts—and it didn't feel like the right time.

"Tell me something," he pushed, facing her head on. "Why are _you_ doing all this?"

Startled, she blinked at him. "I told you, as an Unspeakable it's my job—"

"Don't say your bloody job," Regulus scoffed. "Why are you going out of your way to track down and convince me to come to London for this?"

She hesitated for a moment, considering the answer, as if it weren't obvious. His question was surprising. "Sirius was… a friend, I suppose. He spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit, having been betrayed by one of his closest friends, and he died through lousy circumstances before his name was ever cleared." Chewing her bottom lip for a moment, she added, "And I'm doing it for Harry."

"Sounds like you're in love with the bloke," Regulus sneered, his tone tinged with disdain.

"No," Hermione retorted, surprised at the rapidity of her response. "No, Harry isn't… I'm not his type. We've been best friends since I was twelve."

Circling round the car, Regulus clicked his tongue. "And now you're all of what—twenty?" Planting his hands on the side of the door, he nodded to the passenger side. "Get in if you're coming."

"I'll be twenty-six in September," she huffed, irritated for some reason over his flippant assessment of her youth.

Regulus climbed into the driver's seat, releasing a low whistle. "You were _born_ the year I died." Clipping himself in, he cast her a glance. "You might want to do something with that nest you call hair."

Narrowing her eyes, she sunk into the passenger's seat all the same, scrounging in her bag for a hair tie and hastily pinning it back. "Rude."

"Sorry, love," Regulus huffed, throwing the car into reverse, "you didn't ask for the _polite_ version."

Before she could bite back a response, he shifted into gear and slammed the gas, rapidly bringing the car up to speed and shooting a cloud of dust up behind them on the gravel road.

Slipping a pair of aviators onto the bridge of his nose, he cast her a glance, amusement curling his lips.

"Fine," she snapped, folding her arms. She needed to raise her voice to speak over the wind coming through the open roof, and privately found herself glad he had warned her to tie back her hair. "How old are you, then? You certainly don't _look_ as old as you ought to be."

"Funny, isn't it?" He gave a shrug. "I'm forty-three. Thought it was a delayed side effect of that blasted green potion, but somewhere around ten years ago I just started aging _slowly_. Almost unnoticeably so."

"Ten years?" Her head snapped towards him, the number niggling at the back of her mind. "When Sirius fell through the veil?"

"Around then I suppose."

His expression was unreadable from the side and with his dark glasses, but the tension he'd been carrying sank from his shoulders as he drove one-handed, the wind sweeping through his thick hair, and Hermione found herself observing him closer than she ought to. The thin layer of stubble along the sharp line of his jaw was ruggedly attractive.

"Take a picture, love," he muttered lowly, "I'm old enough to be your father."

Scowling, Hermione whirled back to face the road, chewing her tongue. "I'm only wondering whether it had something to do with the tether."

"You're the one who knows all about weird magic. I barely made it through my NEWTs."

She chose not to respond. "You haven't given me an answer yet. If you're coming with me."

"Like I want to go back to London," he scoffed. "Stay in some grungy, rat-infested room at the Leaky while you experiment on me? No thanks."

Disgust wrinkled the bridge of her nose. "I wouldn't make you stay at the Leaky. I have a spare room—you can stay at my flat. And it isn't _experimenting_ ; we need to see if you can access the blood tether to pull Sirius free."

Regulus pursed his lips but remained silent for a long moment. Eventually she saw the outskirts of the town and he slowed the car, creeping along narrow streets with a smattering of pedestrians.

"It's a big fair, this one today," he explained. "The whole county comes in. This lot should set me up for a while with any luck—put a new coat of paint on the fence." He shrugged a shoulder towards the boxes in the back, and Hermione was surprised they hadn't been jarred by the maniacal way he drove.

He pulled into a parking stall where an assortment of people milled about, setting up tables beneath awnings, before he glanced her way. "Don't you blow my cover or I'm not coming with you."

"Tyler!" an older gentleman exclaimed with a grin and a wave, as Regulus leapt out of the car, clapping the man on the shoulder. Hermione offered a tight smile as well, feeling the man's stare linger on her.

The two spoke for a moment in quiet conversation, and Hermione could only catch snippets as Regulus unloaded his boxes of wooden crafts to the cobbled walk. Then he nodded towards her, still speaking, and consternation furrowed her brow until he dropped his head into a tilt.

Taking the cue, Hermione joined the pair of them on the street.

"Herb, my friend Hermione."

She did her best to ignore the appraising look the man gave her before nudging Regulus on the shoulder, and she wondered what he'd said about her.

"Hermione and I know one another from back home," he announced, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Don't we, love?"

"Right," she hastily responded, offering a tight smile. "That we do."

"I was just telling Herb about what you were sharing with me. That family emergency."

With a sympathetic smile, Herb nodded. "Of course. A friend of Tyler's is a friend of ours. I'd be happy to keep an eye on his table today."

Catching on, she released a long breath. "I really appreciate that. Poor timing, I know—if I'd realised the fair was today I'd never have asked—"

"Nonsense," Regulus clipped, flashing her a grin she'd never seen before. He had remarkably straight, white teeth, and it only made her think of her parents. "What are friends for, if not to help one another in the tough times?"

Forcing another thin, closed-mouth smile, she affected her best look of someone concerned.

Maneuvering a wooden table alongside Herb's, already loaded with mouth-watering baked goods, Regulus began setting out some of his crafts, and Hermione found herself watching, fascinated at the range of things he'd produced. From his carved animal figures, to the decorative treasure boxes, and still more wooden creations. One of the boxes housed a variety of kitchen tools and assorted wares. He arranged them carefully, with a keen eye for placement.

Herb noticed her watching, the impressive selection of goods still growing, and chuckled. "The kids love his carvings. Always a favourite."

Curling her fingers around a small carving of an otter, she peered closer at the way it had been painted in a variety of browns and greys, the individual strokes made to resemble hair, and the intricate detailing in the face. Swallowing, she nodded. "He clearly takes a lot of pride in his work."

With a knowing grin, Herb responded, "That he does."

When she glanced up, Regulus was frozen, eyeing the pair of them. Hurriedly, she returned the otter to its place on the table.

"You ready?" he asked, pointedly lifting his brows at her.

She managed only a brief nod, still not informed of his plans.

"Good luck," Herb said quietly, offering another gentle smile. "I'm sure everything will work out fine."

"Thank you," she returned, having taken an instant liking to the older man.

Regulus plucked the otter she'd been observing from the table and pressed it into her hands without a word. With a small smile, Hermione clutched it tightly as she rounded the car and retook her seat. Observing the fine details of the carving, she waited until he'd pulled back onto the road.

"Where to now?"

"What do you mean, where?" He scoffed, shaking his head as he slipped the aviators on once more and sped up at the outskirts of town. "You wanted to go to London—we're bloody going to London."

Hermione couldn't help the grin from spreading across her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey everyone! I was completely overwhelmed by the response to the first chapter, and I'm glad you're interested in exploring this ship with me! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll be updating every 3-4 days until this is complete.
> 
> Alpha hugs to LadyKenz347; mistakes are my own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! AO3's been eating some e-mails, so please make sure you've read the last chapter before moving onto this one. Thanks! <3

It was almost visceral, the way Regulus' mood darkened the closer they neared to London, stark silence hanging between them. Whatever hint of positivity might have existed between them in town had wholly evaporated. Overhead, sunshine drifted gradually behind the clouds, and about halfway it began to drizzle. He pulled the car onto the side of the road and returned the roof to its upright position, stowing his sunglasses before they carried on.

For her part, Hermione had never felt so uncomfortable on a car ride, and was forced to come to terms with the fact that she had agreed to a lengthy trip with a man she essentially knew nothing about, and whom she didn't trust.

Furthermore, she had offered him her spare room on a whim, and she certainly hadn't thought _that_ one through.

Especially given the detail that he had been raised to despise her kind, and as a teenager had joined a tyrant who would have sought to exterminate all Muggles and Muggle-borns.

Regulus had turned on the car radio, playing some sort of scratchy rock music through the poor rural reception, and cranked it just loud enough for her to infer he didn't want to speak.

But she could see the tension settling on his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw as they neared London, and Hermione sighed.

"Remarkable, to think you've been this close all these years."

He cast her a sidelong glance, his eyes unfriendly.

Attempting to ignore his metaphorical grey cloud to go along with the literal ones in the sky, she went on. "Fascinating, really, that you've stayed so well hidden."

At last he scowled at her and bit out, "I haven't been this close. I've only been back in England the last five years."

Latching onto any opportunity at conversation, she nodded. "Where did you go, when you realised you were free?"

Fingers clenching around the steering wheel, he sucked on his teeth. "I left for the continent. Didn't have hardly anything though—only what I had in my bag when I went to the cave. My wand, a bit of money, a change of clothes." He shrugged, as if it had all been infinitely banal. "I knew if I went home they would have picked up on it, and I couldn't risk anyone realising I hadn't died. Especially _him_."

"That makes sense," Hermione said with a thick swallow.

His eyes swivelled to find hers for a moment. "I wasn't afraid to die, even though I was only eighteen." When he didn't carry on, she sighed, turning to face out the window, watching the rivulets of water chase down the pane. "I only feared what would happen to the people I cared about—if he learned of my betrayal with the Horcrux."

She hummed, face pressed into the cool glass. "Admirable of you." Drawing in a breath, she asked, "What brought you back?"

"To England?" He hesitated while she hummed again in affirmation. "I suppose it was just time to come home. When I left, I knew it wasn't safe to use magic, and it took a long time to figure out how to live on my own without it. I did what I had to, and a lot of it wasn't ideal." His lips were pursed when she sat up in her seat again, and he shrugged. "I came to miss it, eventually."

"But you've never come back to London?"

"No." Shaking his head, he shot her a look. "I'd intended _never_ to go back to London."

"I suppose I always thought you and Sirius weren't close. Gryffindor and Slytherin; Order member and Death Eater."

Hermione was beyond caring if she offended him, given he was so mercurial and she couldn't predict his mood swings anyway.

But Regulus chuckled, a wry upturn to his lips. "Sirius was definitely the black sheep. Our parents were the definition of posh sacred twenty-eight. _Toujours pur_ and all that." He said the motto with a mocking affectation. "I went along with it, I suppose, because it was easier to be the pureblood son they wanted. But Sirius was my brother, ahead of anything else. I couldn't help but look up to him just a little for being willing to stand against it."

It was interesting, to hear him talk so candidly about growing up and his relationship with Sirius, and to her horror, Hermione felt moisture sting the backs of her eyes. Quickly, she rolled her face towards the window again.

"Sirius always looked out for me." He let the words hang, eyes fixed on the road as traffic grew heavier leading into London. "Even when he knew the sort of people I'd been caught up with at school, and who _they_ were involved with. He tried to help me, though his friends didn't want to. But I went off at sixteen anyways and got the Mark and—"

He chewed his tongue between his molars for a long moment, before quietly finishing, "I figured it all out too late."

Hermione didn't know what to say to any of that, and she didn't know him well enough to offer any sort of comfort. All she could do was allow him the silence if he so preferred it, his words swirling around her brain and aligning with what they had learned of Regulus years ago, both from Sirius and from their exploration of Grimmauld Place after his death.

"I'll be honest," Regulus said, stirring her once more from her thoughts. "It's fucking strange that you know all these things about me and I obviously know nothing about you. How did you end up in the middle of everything?"

A hint of a smile played across her lips. "It all comes back to Harry, I suppose. It's a long, convoluted story, curses and prophecies and all of that, but Harry was the only one that Voldemort ever failed to kill, and he was just a baby at the time. The curse rebounded into Voldemort, and it gave Harry a strength over him. Ultimately, only one of them could have survived."

A strained grimace sat on Regulus' face. "How many were there, in the end? The Horcruxes."

" _Seven_ , technically." His eyes widened in alarm. "The locket, you knew about. Two other founders' artefacts, an ancestral ring, his old diary, his pet snake—" Considering for a moment, she paused. "And, _somehow_ , he made one of Harry himself, when he killed Lily."

"Wow." The word was so quiet, barely more than mouthed, but Regulus carded a hand through his hair. "And when did you go about collecting all of these?"

"During what would have been our seventh year at Hogwarts," she returned quietly. "We couldn't go back because Death Eaters had taken over the school, and what with the Muggle-born registry they were after me anyways, so we went on the run and…"

She trailed off when she realised Regulus was gaping at her, a deep knit between his brows. Narrowly swerving to miss an oncoming vehicle, he shook his head and murmured, "What the _fuck_."

Despite herself, she tittered. "What?"

"I'm only just realising," he mused, "I've been severely underestimating you."

A flush of colour crept up into her face at the unexpected compliment, and she offered a thin smile in return.

Turning back to the road ahead, he sighed. "Welcome back to Bloody London."

* * *

Seeing Regulus standing in the entrance of her flat in London was a stark and overwhelming juxtaposition, considering before a few days prior she had believed the man long dead, and had only infrequently thought of him any further. He looked altogether too imposing, casting an appraising eye down the length of her bookshelf.

Without meeting his eye, she selected an empty spot on one of the shelves to place the small otter carving he'd given her at the fair.

He slipped his hands into his pockets with a nod. "It's nice."

"Right," Hermione huffed, leading him into the flat. He toed off his shoes on the entrymat, following her with a thin, uncomfortable smile and high brows. "Here's the loo." She brandished a hand towards the closed door. "Only one, so kindly _knock_ , and this is the extra room."

Ducking his head through the doorway, he took a brief look around before shifting back into the corridor with a nod. "Looks great."

Eyeing him for a moment, she shifted on the spot and added with a vague wave, "That's my room, so…"

"I'll stay out." His stare tightened, and he added, "You seem really overwhelmed by this. Or I don't know, you're assuming I'm judging you on your home."

Attempting to force some of the stiffness from her body, she leaned back against the wall. "If you are, I'll just make you stay at the Leaky instead."

He offered a wry 'ha'.

Her palms felt sweaty, and Hermione couldn't quite wrap her head around why she felt so uneasy having him in her space. "If you like, there are some shops nearby. I can show you or we can go or… you know what? I have to go send a patronus to my supervisor. You can just… make yourself comfortable."

Ignoring the amusement on Regulus' face, she paced into her room and closed the door behind her, leaning back against the wood to steady her racing heart.

For whatever reason, she was all at once in way over her head.

After half an hour of deep breathing and several patronuses back and forth with the department, Hermione reemerged into the corridor, edging her way into the sitting room.

Regulus wasn't there.

Doubling back, she checked his room but the door was open and the room vacant. With trepidation building in her chest, she noticed his shoes were gone from where he'd left them upon arriving and cursed under her breath.

Sinking into the sofa, she dropped her face into her hands. She ought to have expected him to run. He'd been increasingly uncomfortable the entire way to London, and it wasn't as if it would be the first time he'd been a flight risk.

Grumbling to herself, Hermione ventured into the kitchen to prepare something for dinner, keen on having something to occupy her hands. She didn't look forward to the idea of telling her supervisor Regulus had simply walked out of her home and she'd already lost the bloke.

Aggressively tossing a salad, she fumed at herself for not having kept a closer eye on him. She set out two place settings, hoping against anything he would return and she wouldn't have to explain this.

As she nearly burnt herself pulling a dish of potatoes from the oven, the door clicked open and Hermione released a huff of relief.

Regulus ducked his head into the kitchen, giving her a cautious stare. "You alright?"

"Yes," she hissed, "although I would have appreciated some warning that you were leaving."

"You were busy." He dropped a couple bags on the floor, edging into the room. "And believe it or not, I'm a reasonably functional human being. I needed to pick up a few things if I'm staying here for a while." He eyed her for a moment, folding his arms. "You thought I ran away."

Hermione didn't answer, distributing food onto two plates before settling into her own seat.

"This looks delicious." His expression was uneasy, but he sliced into his chicken. "Thanks."

Softening, Hermione speared a wedge of tomato with her fork. "You're welcome."

"I was thinking about this while I was out," he went on, ignoring her mood, "and since you're putting me up, while I'm here it makes sense to contribute with everything. You said it could take weeks, right?"

"We don't know how long it will take."

"Right." He gave her a look as he swallowed the bite. "So, just let me know what I can help with."

Hermione sighed, glancing sidelong at him. "I'm not used to having anyone else in my space, so you'll have to be a little patient with me."

His lips twisted to the side. "Neither am I."

"The bills aren't an issue, but you could help with the groceries and the cooking." He nodded, making quick work of his dinner, and she felt a frisson of pride. Fighting a smile, she added, "There's more chicken in the pan."

Regulus hesitated for only a moment before rising to help himself to seconds. When he sat back down, he stared at her. "What did your supervisor say?"

"I'm to bring you into the Department of Mysteries tomorrow morning," she explained, taking a sip of her water. "I hope you can keep in mind that this is all sort of uncharted magic, and the tether isn't a guarantee that we can save Sirius, only… it's the only shot we've got."

Chewing his bite carefully, he swallowed before speaking. Hermione supposed ingrained etiquette manners died hard. "Understood." He stared at her for a long moment, grey irises searing into hers. "I apologise that I left without telling you. I just thought you could use some time alone. I came here to help, and it wouldn't make any sense if I drove all the way here only to leave."

Blowing out a breath, she offered a thin smile. "Right. Of course."

Hermione rose from her seat, reaching for the dishes when he swatted her hand away. "I'll get them. You cooked."

"Oh," she said, surprised, "thanks."

She made her way into the sitting room, selecting a book from the shelf and sinking into her favourite worn spot on the soda. It was a little difficult to comprehend how much had happened in the past two days, and she felt the fatigue of it catching up to her.

Through the entrance into the kitchen she could see Regulus washing the dishes, his expression pensive, and she wondered what he was truly thinking about everything.

About returning to a world from which he had removed himself twenty-five years prior. The idea of potentially being able to help his long-deceased brother. Softening, she considered the fact that maybe he had simply needed some time alone to process everything, when he had left the flat earlier.

"Tea?" he called and she blinked, startled.

"Sure, thank you. The kettle's—"

"Already found it." His head popped through the entrance into the sitting room. "Told you: functional human being."

Snickering, she tucked her feet beneath herself and returned to her book, enjoying a brief respite from the chaos of the day. Especially knowing tomorrow morning they would attempt to access the blood tether from inside the Death Chamber, she coveted a bit of peace.

A short time later Regulus joined her, placing a steaming cup of tea squarely atop a coaster on the end table beside her. He'd already added a splash of milk, the way she had prepared her tea that morning, and she eyed him for a moment before taking a sip.

"It's perfect, thank you," she said quietly as he stared at her. Setting her book aside, she added, "You're very hot and cold, you know."

"I know."

When he only settled into his seat at the other side of the couch, sipping his tea, she sighed, allowing her eyelids to flutter.

"Which are you _actually_?" she asked, glancing sidelong at him again. When he lifted a brow, she elaborated. "Hot or cold?"

"I'm both. You had it right the first time."

Deciding not to press while they were actually getting along, she merely shook her head.

He broke the silence again with a drawled, "What's your Patronus?"

Hermione frowned, turning to face him at the abrupt question. "What is it?" He only nodded, staring into the opposite wall. "Why do you ask?"

Regulus shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. "Always found them fascinating. A corporeal patronus can tell a lot about a person, you know."

"I know." Eyeing him for a long moment, she mused, "You can't produce one."

Scrunching up his nose, he shook his head once, briefly. "Don't know if I can do any magic anymore. It's been so long since I've lifted a wand."

"Do you still _have_ a wand?" she asked, startled the thought hadn't occurred to her earlier. "You might need one tomorrow." He gave a subtle nod, his hard gaze still fixed on the wall, and she relaxed. Deciding to accept the olive branch for what it was, she summoned her pale blue otter, and they both watched as it fluttered around the sitting room for a moment before dissipating.

Regulus' gaze darted to the shelf, where she had placed the carved otter he'd given her.

He didn't say anything more, and only sank deeper into the sofa.

"You know," she hedged carefully, "I don't think it's true—when they say people who have had the Dark Mark can't cast a Patronus." He only scoffed, low and derisive, and she added, "Snape could cast one."

"Right, well Snivellus always was an overachieving prat, wasn't he?"

Despite herself, she released a bright laugh. "You didn't like him either?"

He fired her a look. "Love, _no one_ really liked Sev. Self-righteous prick. Not even his own housemates—but we at least had to try. Bloody tosser—don't tell me _he's_ still alive?"

"No," she breathed, "he's dead too. The snake-horcrux got him." She shook her head. "I suppose in a way, he redeemed himself in the end—or some think so anyways. I can't say I've given it that much thought."

"Right, well," he went on. "Doubt I'd be able to cast one anyways."

Hermione stared at him for a long moment, her chest tightening as his gaze returned to the wall. "I could try and teach you, if you like. I've done it before. I think anyone can learn the magic if they try—"

Frowning, she cut herself off at his cold bark of laughter.

With a bitter twist of his lips, he said, "You're assuming I have happy memories somewhere in here."

"Surely there's _something_." He only offered an unenthused flicker of his brows when she gaped at him. Skimming through what she knew of his life she frowned. "I'm sure you could come up with something powerful enough."

Regulus only sighed, as if resigning himself to the situation, and she sank into the sofa, clutching her tea. She couldn't imagine not having _any_ positive memories.

The air grew tense between them for the first time since dinner, and she supposed they simply didn't know one another well enough to carry a proper conversation for any length of time. It would make working _and_ living together a challenge.

"I appreciate the effort," he said, breaking the loaded silence. And while she might have expected him to qualify the statement, he said nothing more and merely finished the last of his tea.

Hermione worried her bottom lip, scouring her brain for something else to say, but the divide between them felt wider than ever. Idly, she wondered whether they would ever breach the seemingly insurmountable barriers that now stood firm, and the thought occurred to her that no matter how things went with the blood tether, Regulus would retreat after the fact to his home in the countryside and that would be that.

For some reason, the thought embedded an uneasy chill in her body, settling heavy in the pit of her stomach.

They weren't friends, and she doubted they ever would be.

Pressing his hands to his thighs, Regulus leaned forward in his seat. "Long day. Think I'll take a shower and get some sleep."

"Right," she said, pressing her lips into a thin smile. "Have a nice sleep."

As if he couldn't wait to escape the awkward silence that had overtaken anything else, he stood and collected his empty teacup, pacing for the kitchen. But he turned back towards her in the doorway.

"Hermione."

"Yes?" She blinked, startled, having only heard him actually use her name once or twice.

He offered a strained grimace. "Thanks. For everything. And for giving me this chance to save Sirius."

"Of course," she murmured, absently staring into the dregs of her own cup.

"I mean it." Regulus emerged into the sitting room again, a furrow in his brow. "It's been a long time—since I've been in this world. It's… going to take some adjusting."

Pulling forth a more genuine smile, she nodded. "I understand that."

His fingers curled around her shoulder as he walked by, hesitating behind her, and she nearly flinched at the unexpected contact. "Good night."

"Good night." The ghost of his touch lingered through her jumper after he'd walked away, and once she'd heard the running water of the shower head, she lifted her own hand to her shoulder where he had touched her, forcing a thick swallow as warmth bloomed in her belly. Releasing a shuddering breath, she rose and went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thank you all for your lovely kind words, and for the favourites, follows, kudos, etc. I had a lot of fun writing this piece and it means so much you're all along for this ride with me. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Alpha hugs to LadyKenz347. Edits and mistakes are my own.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione felt on edge as she walked into the Ministry of Magic the next morning, in a way she hadn't felt in years. But it wasn't any usual day.

Not only was she walking into the Ministry with a man who had been presumed dead for twenty-five years, but he was also a former, unsentenced Death Eater.

Regulus had already been awake when she entered the kitchen, cradling a mug of black coffee and staring blankly at that morning's copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , his stare tight and unmoving. He'd thrown together a delicious breakfast and barely eaten three bites of it.

And from the moment they had left her flat, he had carried himself with a tension so severe she was certain he was going to simply crack in two, his jaw hard and the skin around his eyes strained.

He was also jumpier than she had ever seen him, to the point where she was surprised he had managed to remain hidden for so many years. As they neared the lifts on the main floor, he eyed several wizards walking by in Auror robes and Hermione thought he was going to make a run for it.

"You said your supervisor can pardon me, right," he ground through clenched teeth.

"That's right," she returned, fighting the humour tugging at her lips at his skittish disposition. "But I can't help you if you get caught right now. You'll need to refrain from getting yourself arrested until we reach level nine."

Regulus only swallowed, firing her a dirty look, as if he couldn't quite dredge forth the will for sarcasm.

"Relax," Hermione mused. "It isn't as if anyone is going to look at you and say to themselves, 'that man looks like how the long deceased Regulus Black might if he were ten years younger.'"

He hissed at her, grey eyes darting rapidly as they boarded a lift with several others in varying types of Ministry robes.

For his part, Regulus had scrounged together a button-down shirt and trousers, at least making himself look presentable, and she had managed to persuade him to bring his wand, which was apparently stowed at the bottom of the knapsack he'd grabbed before leaving his cottage.

Whether his aversion was simply because he'd grown so used to living without magic, or if it went deeper, she wasn't certain.

But as she rolled her eyes at his antics, his gaze narrowing at anyone on the lift who dared look in his direction, she concluded that he certainly wasn't gaining any favours by acting so strange and making himself stand out.

Even so, Hermione softened when she tried to understand the situation from his angle. He had no idea what he was walking into; she tried to remember her first trip in the Department of Mysteries as a proper Unspeakable, and it had been nerve wracking to say the least.

Furthermore, he had been a criminal before faking his own death and running away for twenty-five years, and suddenly found himself surrounded by Ministry officials and law enforcement.

Thirdly—and perhaps the crux of the issue—was that he had a realistic chance to save his deceased brother.

It was enough to make anyone nervous.

They were the only two remaining in the lift when it descended from level eight, and Hermione curled her fingers around his forearm, giving a gentle squeeze for support. "It'll be okay."

And although she expected derision or a roll of his eyes, he merely clasped his other hand briefly on top of hers. Hermione felt an unexpected jolt, her gaze drifting to his hand—larger, weather-worn, scarred—before he dropped it once more as the lift door opened.

Regulus kept at her side and met her eyes for a moment before he turned to face ahead of him. "Department of Mysteries, eh."

"Right," she breathed, with a bit of an uneasy titter. "You made it here without getting arrested."

He bit out a tight, humourless, "I can't tell if you're joking."

"The way you've been acting…" she trailed off, leading him along the glossy black tiled corridor. "I'd tell you not to talk about the things you see down here, but you literally won't be able to, so it's not necessary. But just know that you'll see some _interesting_ things."

"Interesting," he echoed, with a wry twist to his lips. "Can't wait."

The solid stretch of wall ahead of them evaporated as they approached, reforming itself with a soft hiss once they'd crossed through.

"As I mentioned before, we'll be meeting my supervisor in the Death Chamber, where I do most of my research." Although he already knew, it helped to speak, and he nodded along, latching on to the distraction. "A man named Unspeakable Sullivan. He's the one who will be able to help you out, and he knows more about the blood tethers than I do."

"Can you tell me," Regulus began, hesitating. "Has anyone ever… come back?"

"Through a blood tether?" He nodded and she sighed. "Not while I've been an Unspeakable. But from what I'm told, it _is_ possible."

Blowing out a breath, he offered a single, sharp nod in return, pressing his palms into the fabric of his trousers.

"Through here," she huffed, veering off from the corridor into an alcove. The wall hesitated for a moment, and she knew it to be checking her credentials, or perhaps questioning her companion, before it evaporated as well, the tiles this time twisting back together with an echoing clank.

Hermione had been in the Death Chamber more times than she could count, but she still felt a reverent stillness sweep over her. The air was different in this chamber, even compared to the rest, and she cast Regulus a quick glance.

"This is intense," he breathed, venturing a step forward, but Hermione caught him around the wrist.

"You'll want to stick with me," she hedged quietly. "More things than you realise can kill you here. And that would just completely negate our purposes here, right?"

A sickly twist pulled at his lips, but her attempt at humour fell flat. He didn't withdraw his wrist from her hand, however, as she led him towards her workspace on the raised plinth some distance from the veil.

"Are there always voices?" Regulus asked, deadpan.

"Always," Hermione said, carefully gauging his reaction to everything. "You sort of learn to tune them out after a while."

But he continued to stare at the veil, and she didn't realise he'd stopped walking until his wrist pulled from her grip, falling to hang at his side.

"Come on," she whispered.

A few other Unspeakables were already working, and a couple glanced up at them, but most of her co-workers kept their own hours and wouldn't be there until later. Hermione suspected it was half of the reason Sullivan asked her to bring Regulus in early.

"Sirius in there?" he asked.

Opening her mouth to respond, she hesitated when something faltered in Regulus' expression, his eyes still trained on the light fluttering of the veil.

"Unspeakable Granger. Good, you're here." She flinched, startled, as Unspeakable Sullivan walked towards them, eyeing Regulus with an appraising stare. "You must be Regulus Black. Not every day you meet a dead man—even down here."

Regulus managed a weak grin, extending a hand with a quiet, "Yes, sir."

As the pair shook hands, Hermione remembered the way he had refused to shake hers upon meeting her only days prior, and she felt her lips twitch at the recollection.

Sullivan stared at Regulus for a long moment, in the same way he often did her, leaving her unnerved every time.

"I hope Unspeakable Granger has filled you in on the situation." Raising expectant brows, he looked between the two of them. "We have a limited window in which to attempt to recover the blood tether of Sirius Black. And furthermore, we don't know exactly what it will take."

"Yes," Hermione said, ducking her chin into a nod. She felt Regulus' stare burn into the side of her head as she turned towards Sullivan. "He's been informed of the circumstances around the blood tether."

"Good," Sullivan said gruffly. "And _if_ you do what we ask, I'll talk to Minister Shacklebolt about any old outstanding charges. This is certainly a… _unique_ set of circumstances. Got a wand, Black?"

Though she could see the way his stare darkened infinitesimally, he nodded. "I do."

"Fine." Leading them towards the veil, Sullivan turned back towards Regulus. "Don't _fucking_ touch because we're not fishing you both out."

Regulus huffed a quiet, tense, "Noted."

"Then let's get started."

* * *

Hermione wasn't altogether surprised when nothing had come of their experiments after the day ended, but she still felt a slight sting of disappointment that they hadn't learned anything other than what _not_ to do to activate the tether.

She could remember the way Regulus' face had shifted when he held his wand for the first time in decades, the flicker of power, apprehension, and something like a flash of despair.

All three of them had watched, frozen to the spot, when Sirius' tether stretched along the floor leading away from the veil, coiling around Regulus' ankles.

If Hermione still harboured a shred of doubt—although she had known, the moment she realised it was Regulus Black she had found—it would have been obliterated in that moment.

But still, the most basic, elementary magical tests they'd attempted had gone nowhere. She tried to remind herself they had to start simple, because anything too aggressive could startle the tether back into the veil and their chance would be lost altogether.

For his part, Regulus had kept up all day, doing whatever Sullivan asked of him, and not questioning the process other than to ask a few questions about the veil and the tether itself.

Despite his concerns he wouldn't be able to perform magic, and the initial unfamiliarity with which he had wielded his wand, once he got back into the feel of it, he'd been able to channel his magic well. Impressively, actually, and Hermione had caught herself staring more than once.

They had been in the chamber until the late afternoon, and although Regulus had been sociable enough throughout the day with her and Sullivan, as soon as they had arrived back at the flat, he retreated into his room for a short while.

Appreciating his need for time and space, Hermione took up her spot on the sofa with her book.

Some time later, Regulus emerged and ventured into the kitchen to begin preparing dinner, and he shooed her away to sit at the table when she offered to help.

"I've always enjoyed cooking the Muggle way," he announced quietly, breaking the silence that had existed between them since they returned back to her flat. "Like potions, but edible."

She offered him a smile, propping her face up with one elbow as she watched him meticulously prepare whatever he had in mind. "You did well today."

Regulus blew out a breath. "We weren't supposed to find answers yet."

Uncertain whether he was asking her or reminding himself, she merely hummed in response. "Answers in the Department of Mysteries aren't synonymous with answers anywhere else. What we _did_ learn today was methods that won't work."

"Right," he bit out, "process of elimination."

"Something like that."

He carefully diced a tomato before glancing back towards her. "Why did you want to become an Unspeakable?"

A smile drifted to her lips. "I don't know; magic has always been so interesting to me, especially because I didn't learn that it was real until I was eleven. The Department of Mysteries offered the chance to explore and discover all there is to know about magic—and we'll probably never even learn it all."

Regulus chuckled, shaking his head. "I didn't love school half that much. But I wasn't great at it. You must be incredibly smart."

"I always felt like I needed to prove myself," she said quietly. "Because I wasn't from a magical family, of course, there were those that wanted to judge me for it."

Hermione wasn't exactly certain the words had left her lips as a challenge until they were hanging between them. And even if she hadn't meant it as a challenge, he'd taken it so, if the tightening of his stare was any indication.

He swept a hand through his hair, pursed his lips, and rolled his shoulders.

"Well," he mused at last, "thank Merlin for Muggle-born witches, then, eh?"

She couldn't quite keep the smile from lifting the corners of her lips, and something in his gaze sparked warmth low in her belly. Glancing away, she breathed, "Indeed."

* * *

After a meal Regulus had thrown together that turned out more delicious than anything she could remember making in a long while, Hermione found herself curled up in her corner of the sofa, sipping tea while Regulus sat on the other end, a furrow in his brow as he watched a program on the television, his expression intense.

"See, I can't understand why they're so keen on finding this ancient buried chamber. Everyone _knows_ what's inside ancient chambers."

Hermione tittered, covering her mouth with her teacup. "Because it makes for interesting television."

He shot her a look. "Honestly. _Someone_ is going to die."

"Probably."

It was nice, being able to connect with someone who was both from the wizarding world, but had a working knowledge of Muggle life. She had always had that with Harry, to a certain extent, but he hadn't exactly grown up with an ordinary childhood. Regulus, while having been raised in one of the most pious of pureblood households, had spent more time in the Muggle world than the wizarding.

Stretching his legs out in front of him, he grimaced when a loud crack sounded from one of his joints and Hermione couldn't contain a giggle. "You should get that looked at."

"Sure," Regulus drawled, "poke fun at me for being old. See how that goes for you."

"You aren't old," she said dismissively. "You're still young in the scheme of things, considering the life span of witches and wizards."

She could imagine him rolling his eyes even though he didn't look at her. "Because of _magical_ healing and potions. I haven't been to a healer since I was young. At this point I'm more or less a Muggle."

Hermione frowned at the thought, crossing her legs beneath her. "You're welcome to use my potions set if there are things you need. Before you…" she trailed off, swallowing. "Before you return home." When he remained silent, she barrelled on. "Besides, it's the magic in your veins, too, that adds to the longevity. You can't get rid of that."

At last, Regulus turned away from the program, tapping the volume down with the remote. "I'll admit, it's been nice having someone to talk to about these things. _Not_ having to pretend at who I am." Lowly, he added, "I still fucking hate London though."

"Well," Hermione said idly, making an effort to keep her tone light, "you're welcome to talk to me. Even once you go back home."

He stared at her for a drawn-out breath, something in his eyes beyond the levity of moments earlier, before nodding. "Thanks, love. Appreciate it."

The words chased from her lips before she could even fathom stopping them. "Why do you call me love?"

Regulus scrunched up the bridge of his nose, shrugging. "I mean, look at you." As if that was an answer; bewildered, she frowned, quirking a brow. "I won't, if it bothers you."

"It doesn't bother me."

"Fine." Offering a facetious smile, he added, "Love."

She had seen his grouchy side, more than once, and she'd seen a softer, more sincere side. She'd meant it when she told him he was hot and cold. But this more playful side put a twist in her stomach and a fluttering in her chest.

Idly, she mused, "I'll come up with a name for you yet."

A slow, rare grin crept up into his face, and the feeling in her chest tightened into something else. She felt warmth stain the flesh of her cheeks and did her best to will it away.

Rolling her face along the back of the sofa, she stared at him for a moment. "Maybe it isn't so terrible having someone around for company."

" _I'm_ not good company." Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. "Why aren't you paired off, anyways?"

She recognised that he didn't mean it in a spirit of meanness, so she simply shrugged. "I guess I just haven't found the right person yet. I enjoy my job and spending time with my friends, and I'm not in a rush."

"Good. You shouldn't be in a rush."

"What about you?" she asked, lifting her brows. "Never found someone to live in your cottage with you?"

Regulus gave a sort of vague and noncommittal gesture, and she laughed despite herself. "I like where I'm living and I've put a lot of work into that cottage. Don't need someone to come in and mess it up." His eyes flickered sidelong to meet hers, and after an extended moment, his lips pulled up into a smirk. "I'm only joking. Honestly? It's difficult to let anyone in when you aren't who you say you are."

Hermione softened, sinking a little deeper into the couch as she turned her body to face him. "I think I can understand that."

"Besides," he went on in a low voice, "probably for the best I don't reproduce. The Black line is horrifically inbred as it is."

Hermione grimaced at the thought. "I think I'd like to be a mother one day. When the time is right."

He only murmured, "Yeah." Glancing back her way, he added, "You'd make a good mum. From what I know about you."

For a flicker of an instant, she wondered how they had gone from discussing the television program, now long forgotten, to the topic of marriage and children. It was a conversation she hadn't even reached with any of the men she'd dated, and Regulus _certainly_ wasn't—

"Anyways," he drawled, cutting off her increasingly anxious train of thought. "Not something to worry about at this point in time. Will you show me that potions set?"

Grateful for the diversion, she nodded. "Absolutely."

The soft, new smile on his lips did nothing to quell the racing of her heart.

* * *

The next morning Hermione set an early alarm on her wand, keen to wake before Regulus. He had been kind enough to prepare both breakfast and dinner the day before, so with a soft early morning sky accompanying her through the window, she set out to prepare a nice spread.

By the time Regulus joined her, hair scruffy and rubbing at bleary eyes, she had bacon, eggs, and toast kept warm under a stasis charm, and was in the process of preparing two bagged lunches, since they had worked through lunch the day before.

Peering closer, his shoulder nearly brushing against her back, he said, "That looks fantastic." He flashed her a grin, curling his fingers around her shoulder in a brief squeeze, before collecting the plates and silverware from the countertop and setting two places.

Forcing a swallow, Hermione carried the food to the table and joined him.

It was awfully domestic, having someone else around to share the cooking and cleaning, and a quiet, intrusive voice in the back of her mind suggested it might be something she could grow used to.

Not with him, of course. That wouldn't make sense in a million years, and she was careful to set the idea aside, lest it get jumbled somewhere in her thoughts.

Somewhere with the way she felt when he smiled at her.

But with someone else—when all of this was over and Regulus returned to his cottage home in the countryside, far away from her magical life here in London. Maybe it _wasn't_ a terrible idea to consider the idea of meeting someone, in the mid- to long-term future.

Of course, that was easier said than done as well, when most of the men she met were of a more archaic mindset indicative of the wider wizarding world, and largely didn't want a woman who would outperform them with her work. Many were intimidated by Unspeakables in general, and it was difficult sometimes, being unable to share the details of her career with anyone.

"Can hear your mind spinning from here, love," Regulus clipped, taking a long swig of his coffee. "Anything you need to share?"

"No," she rushed, a little too quickly, and offered a smile. "No. Everything's fine."

"Great. Thanks for breakfast."

Before she could make any sense of him he rose, collecting her empty plate from in front of her, and set to work cleaning.

"Thank you," she said, hesitant as she edged for the sitting room. "I'm going to have a shower and get ready. We leave in a little over an hour."

Carefully rinsing a glass, he only said, "I know."

Hanging back for just a moment, she watched him, the way his hands worked, and she felt a sting of colour creep up her throat before she ducked from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey everyone! It means so much to me that you're enjoying this story, being my first longer step away from Dramione in over a decade. I hope you liked this chapter! Alpha hugs and hearts to LadyKenz347; given the state of the world I opted to do my own edits for this silly piece, so any mistakes are solely my own.


	5. Chapter 5

Much to Hermione's surprise, after a week and a half, she and Regulus had begun to settle into a routine of sorts. More often than not, one of them would wake early and prepare breakfast and lunch, while the other would make dinner in the evening.

They'd seen some successes and failures with the veil in the Department of Mysteries, but nothing that had been able to activate the blood tether. Hermione had simply decided to take her cues from Unspeakable Sullivan, whose spirit was still uplifted and positive.

Sometimes after they returned to Hermione's flat after another long day in the Death Chamber, Regulus would leave the flat and come back some time later, but she didn't think he had left the Muggle neighbourhood in which she lived. In fact, she hadn't seen him perform any magic outside of the Ministry, even when it was just the pair of them.

She was starting to suspect he feared Aurors would descend on him and drag him to Azkaban if his magical signature was detected, as if his magic were being traced.

Regulus was organised and respectful, and she appreciated that she never had to worry about him in her space.

And if she was entirely honest with herself, she enjoyed his company.

Their long hours experimenting with the veil were both emotionally and mentally draining, but not once had she heard him complain. In fact, the one weekend day Hermione had decided to take off as she usually would, she later learned Regulus had made special arrangements with Sullivan to go in anyways.

She had felt a sting of shame upon learning he had gone without her, even though he hadn't said or done anything to make her feel that way, and Hermione committed to spending each day until they either figured it out or lost their chance.

Seeing Regulus' determination, she had begun to desperately hope for the former.

Admittedly, it was strange to think he would return to his cottage in the countryside once they were through, and she had come to accept it would be a strange adjustment to return to the way things had been _before_ he had wedged his way into her life.

One evening while Hermione was cooking, Regulus ducked out of the flat, and when he returned half an hour later, he slipped into his seat just in time for dinner.

"I had to make a call," he said by way of explanation. "Herb still has my things from the fair."

"Oh," Hermione replied, having almost forgotten. "Is he alright or do you need to go get them?"

Regulus only waved a hand. "I told him I'd be a while longer yet. He has a spare key and he's just going to drop everything off for me." After chewing a moment, he added, "The fair went well."

She pressed her lips into a smile. "I'm glad to hear that. You'll be able to paint the fence after all?"

Cracking a grin, his eyes met hers. "Yes. The fence will finally get its new coat of paint, thank Merlin. I can't look at it cracked and peeling any longer."

"Good." Glancing away, Hermione took a long swallow of her water.

"It surprised me," Regulus went on conversationally, "that you live in a Muggle area, you've got a television and all these Muggle gadgets, but not a phone. I had to find a booth."

Snickering, she shrugged. "I suppose I never have use for one."

"You don't call your parents?"

Startled, she dropped her fork where it landed on the plate with a clang. Hermione froze for a moment, considering the question, before her eyes lifted to meet his, but there was nothing untowards in his gaze. Sucking in a breath, she offered a smile. "They live in Australia."

"Australia." Regulus' brow furrowed with confusion. "You can call them long distance, you know. Do you ever go to see them? Or do they come to visit?"

She might have wondered at his sudden interest in her family, if not for the fact that nausea had seized her stomach, an uncomfortable tightness settling in her chest. While they sometimes talked about the war, from each of their perspectives, it was one of the things she'd never shared with him.

Straightening her shoulders, she steeled her courage and managed to look him in the eye. "My parents don't remember me." At the surprise in his stare, she looked away, pressing on. "When Harry, Ron, and I decided to leave to hunt Horcruxes, I modified their memories so they wouldn't become a target. They don't remember anything of their life with me in it."

For a long, heavy moment, she could feel Regulus' stare burning a hole in the side of her head, and when she finally glanced up, a breath caught in her throat. Although his face was stoic, something shone in his eyes she couldn't quite place.

"Hermione…" he began, shaking his head. "I don't even _begin_ to know what to say to that. I'm sorry you were put in such a position, and I can't imagine how that must have felt."

She nodded, blowing out a stuttering exhale. "I can live with it because they survived."

Intrinsically, she felt that he didn't need any more explanation than that, because he knew as well as anyone the costs of war.

"Merlin," he muttered, "I wonder sometimes how I ever got pulled into it all. How I _ever_ thought—" Cutting himself off, he stared at the wooden grain of the table, before dropping a hand atop hers where it rested on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

HIs eyes were a little glassy when he looked back up, avoiding her stare, and his hand lingering on hers in that moment was one of the greatest comforts she'd ever known.

At last, he said only, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she breathed, adrenaline picking up and coursing through her veins as she considered how simple it would be to twist her wrist, catch his hand in her own and—

"Hermione! Are you decent? I'm coming through."

She flinched, jumping away as his hand retracted from her own, and Hermione leapt from her seat, pacing into the sitting room with heat pooling in her cheeks.

So caught up in the project, she'd cancelled her dinner date with Harry the week before and forgotten to owl him this week. Leaning against the doorframe, she returned, "Yes Harry, you're fine."

Hermione could feel Regulus' stare on her again from the other side of the kitchen and she said quietly, "I forgot to cancel our plans this evening."

Several long, deep breaths later, the Floo flared to life in the grate, neon green flames reaching towards the chimney before Harry stepped through, his eyes instantly darting to her—and then sliding along towards Regulus.

Harry's green eyes widened slightly with surprise, his mouth falling open.

"Sorry to interrupt."

"You aren't," Hermione rushed, finally glancing at Regulus, whose own stare was blown wide as he took in Harry. "Harry, this is… er—"

"Think he's going to freak out?" Regulus drawled with a smirk, before he stepped forward into the sitting room towards Harry, his expression tightening. "Merlin, you are a _replica_ of James Potter."

Harry offered an uneasy chuckle, looking out of sorts as his gaze swept Regulus, who appeared only a handful of years older than them. "Did you know my father? You _can't_ have—" But Harry faltered, too, and he shook his head, glancing towards Hermione. "You look like someone I used to know."

It was a startling juxtaposition to watch, James Potter's son meeting Sirius Black's brother, and Hermione didn't quite know what to make of any of it.

"Harry," she began carefully, and both sets of eyes swung to hers, one with amusement and the other with bewilderment. "I need to tell you something, but I can't tell you all of it, because it's to do with my work. And you _can't_ panic."

A grin tugged at Regulus' lips as Harry's expression grew more hesitant, tension in his stance.

"Harry Potter," she went on, waving a hand, swinging it towards Regulus, "Regulus Black."

The stunned silence that followed might have been comical if she weren't already so on edge.

At last Harry blinked several times, frowning, and said, "Regulus Black? Hermione, Regulus Black's dead."

Regulus gestured to himself, as if to announce his presence, and Hermione couldn't help the titter that escaped her own lips. "Or so we thought."

She could see the cogs in Harry's mind turning, and finally he glanced at her. "Okay, supposing we ignore all my other questions, you do realise he was a Death Eater, right?"

"I know, Harry." Feeling as if she needed to speak on behalf of the man she had come to know, she added, "And recall, he _died_ defecting."

"Right," Harry said, "died."

"But yet," Regulus drawled, "I didn't."

Harry collapsed into the sofa, dropping his head into his hands. Hermione joined him, while Regulus took up the armchair across the small sitting room. "So you _aren't_ dead."

Regulus grimaced, offering Hermione a look. "Is he slow?" Turning back to Harry, he brandished a hand. "I suppose I should thank you for finally doing away with the old tyrant, eh. Hermione's told me about how everything played out."

As if he still couldn't quite wrap his head around everything, Harry accepted the proffered hand, giving it a firm shake. "Thanks, mate. Are either of you going to explain this to me?"

"Not really," Hermione admitted, deflating. "Like I said, a lot of it's to do with my work. But I was able to track Regulus down through a rare bit of magic in the Department of Mysteries, and he's helping me with something."

"So you aren't… together." Harry's gaze darted between them once more, loaded with skepticism, and Hermione realised how it must have looked, the pair of them having dinner together at her flat on a Friday evening.

"Noo," Regulus answered, drawing out the word perhaps longer than Hermione quite thought necessary. "I'm living here while in London—but it isn't like _that_."

"Right," Hermione bit out, an unpleasant feeling coiling in her stomach. "Regulus is _quite_ old, so—"

"Hey!"

Harry's green eyes tightened again. "You don't _look_ as old as you ought to." He shook his head once more, clasping his hands in his lap. "This is not what I was expecting when you said you were too busy to meet last week."

Regulus offered a self-deprecating sort of smile with a shrug. "I wasn't expecting Hermione to show up in the front garden and uproot me from my life, either. But here we are." Hesitating for a moment, he chuckled and added, "I hear you're stuck in that lousy old townhouse. Surprised you haven't burnt it down."

Harry's brows lifted, as if the thought hadn't quite occurred to him, and he shifted in his seat, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Right, Sirius offered it to me. Thought you were dead and all."

"Oh, I don't _want_ it," Regulus said emphatically. "Not at all."

"Oh," Harry said, twisting his lips to the side. "You still have some old stuff there. We've boxed it up but… if you want to take a look."

Hermione sat back, watching the exchange, as extreme discomfort flickered through Regulus' expression. "Maybe I'll take you up on that. Thanks."

"Kreacher'd be pleased to see you, I'd wager," Harry added with a chuckle. "The nutter still talks about his dear Master Regulus."

Regulus' jaw fell open. "Kreacher is still _alive_?"

"Barely, mate. He's ancient." Harry chuckled, clapping his hands to his thighs. "You're welcome to come by sometime if you want; a friend of Hermione's is a friend of mine, as twisted and convoluted as this is. Maybe you know what to do with Walburga's portrait."

"I doubt it. Knowing her, she's likely affixed it with blood magic. I can try to remove it, but if Sirius couldn't manage it, I probably won't either."

Harry cussed under his breath, and Hermione shared a conspiratorial smile with Regulus. But Harry looked up again. "You knew my parents, then?"

"Your father, mostly," Regulus said, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms. "He could be a right prat." Harry frowned and a tense silence settled across the room. "But he was one of the most loyal bastards I ever met. He and Sirius were peas in a pod, Remus too, and I always wished I had someone willing to watch my back like James did for his friends."

Green eyes a little glossy, Harry offered a quiet, "Thanks."

"I was sorry to hear," Regulus added, leaning forward, "when Hermione told me none of them had made it out."

"Yeah," Harry muttered, "same. Remus and his wife Tonks had a son—Teddy. He's seven now. Are you staying in London a while?"

Regulus caught her eye across the room and Hermione shrugged, breaking in. "We aren't certain yet. If all goes according to plan, he'll be returning home sooner than later."

For a moment, he didn't answer, but he also didn't break their eye contact. At last he muttered, "Yeah. The plan. The fence needs painting and all that."

"Right." Harry nodded, his gaze flittering to hers for an instant, something behind his green irises she couldn't quite place. "Well, if you want to meet Teddy before you go, Theo and I are going to Andromeda's on Sunday for dinner."

"Andromeda," Regulus echoed, flashing a grin. "Always liked her. What do you think? Should we go?"

Startled, Hermione realised he was asking her, and her brows flew up high, given he was free to do whatever he liked, with or without her. "You're the long lost cousin back from the dead. That's your decision to make."

"It'll be fun," Harry offered, "we've been teaching Teddy how to do a barrel roll." He released a huff of laughter. "Imagine the look on Andromeda's face when she sees you."

At the sparkle in Regulus' grey eyes, so unlike the darkness he'd carried when they met, she quipped, "Sure. We'll come along." The smile he shot her set her stomach into a veritable twist.

* * *

Hermione left her room, making for the sitting room, when several things happened at once. The door to the loo swung open, releasing a small cloud of steam, and she crashed blindly into something solid, knocking her to the floor.

Scrambling, she hauled herself up along the wall, blinking several times when she met the wide, bewildered eyes of Regulus. His cheeks were flushed, but she couldn't tell if that was due to the shower or the situation.

Slowly, painfully, her eyes dragged below the dip of his collarbone, along the firm muscle of his chest, the defined ridges of his abdomen—and her eyes snapped back up with a breathless, "Hi—hello. Sorry about that."

"My fault," he murmured, dragging a hand through his damp locks. "Should have checked before I—"

"Bad timing," she breathed.

She couldn't quite keep her eyes from darting down when she took a precarious step back, and a breath of relief escaped her that he wore jeans, slung low on the sharp lines of his hips.

Shuffling out of the way, she found herself blocked when he moved the same direction. He offered a thin press of the lips, and Hermione wasn't sure whether it was meant to be a smile or a grimace.

Huffing a breath, she buried the heel of her palm in one eye, and plastered herself back against the wall.

"Thank you," Regulus clipped, making to move past her but he stopped, close enough that she could feel the post-shower warmth emanating from his body and smell the fresh notes of his body wash. Hermione felt her breaths chasing from her lips in rapid puffs, and she wished he would walk away. The corner of his mouth lifted with humour and he muttered, "Making me feel indecent, looking at me like that."

"I'm not," she breathed, "looking in any specific way."

"Right, love," he mused, at last making for his room. "Half an hour, yeah?"

"I wasn't!" she called, as his door closed behind him. "You were just in the way." She could have sworn she heard his chuckle through the wood.

Dropping her head back against the wall with a groan, Hermione desperately willed her heart to slow down. It was _not_ a good idea, for a plethora of reasons. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to persuade herself of the fact.

* * *

By the time they left for Andromeda's, Hermione was grateful to see Regulus fully clothed, although his t-shirt did little to conceal the lean lines of his arms, which only served to remind her of the tight muscle of his chest and stomach, now seared into the back of her mind.

She knew he kept an active lifestyle, but she hadn't expected him to boast _that_ sort of a physique, and it made her all the more convinced that they needed to figure out the situation with the blood tether so Regulus could return home and stop living in her flat. Sharing her things. Walking around shirtless.

The man was nearly two decades older than her, for Merlin's sake, even if he didn't look it.

And for a number of other reasons, which were hazy at the moment, it was best they kept their distance.

He caught her gaze once she'd Apparated the pair of them to Andromeda's, and if she didn't know him better she might not have noticed the nerves in his stare, but she offered him a smile instead. "It's going to be great. Andromeda will be thrilled to see you, I'm sure."

"I doubt it," he mused. "The last time she saw me I was a ratty little snob."

"And a Death Eater," Hermione added, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow as she knocked on the door. He fired her a scowl. "Relax. You _aren't_ any of that anymore. You're hardworking, responsible, kind—"

"Go on," he teased, that obnoxious smirk lifting his lips.

Hermione huffed an irritated breath, jabbing him again with her elbow. " _Conceited_."

He caught her elbow, his fingers curling around her arm for a moment before he released her just as the door swung open.

"Hermione!" Andromeda exclaimed, pulling her into an embrace. "It's so good to see you—Harry and Theo said you were bringing a guest!"

When the woman drew away, her gaze drifting towards Regulus and a greeting on her lips, she froze.

Swallowing, Regulus slid his hands into his pockets, brows lifting on his forehead. "Hullo, Andy."

Andromeda gaped at him for a long moment, clutching a hand to her chest, before she shook her head. "You're—it can't be—" The blood drained from her face and Hermione felt the hot sting of moisture tugging at her eyes at the look of incredulity on the woman's face. Quietly, she asked, " _Reggie_?"

Regulus released a tight breath, clamping his lips shut.

"How can it be?" Andromeda whispered, her grey eyes locked on Regulus' matched ones, before she drew the man into a tight embrace on the front step.

With a stuttering exhale of her own, Hermione caught Harry's gaze through the entrance into the house and she slipped past to give the pair of them some privacy, swiping at her eyes as Harry pulled her into his side.

"Wild, isn't it?" Theo asked, coming up on her other side, popping a grape between his lips. "Goes to show, though, sometimes family is stronger than just blood. Hi, Hermione."

"Hi Theo," Hermione murmured, feeling emotionally wrought at Andromeda's instant, unquestioning acceptance of Regulus' presence. Despite the years, and the absolute polar opposite ends of the situation the pair of them had found themselves as youths.

"Come on," Harry said quietly, nudging her. "Teddy's out back."

Turning towards the back door, Hermione found Theo's expectant stare on her. "Harry's said I'm not allowed to bother you about this."

"Please don't," she managed weakly.

Theo went on, keeping up with her steps, "But I'm going to. You are living with _that bloke_ and nothing's going on?"

"Nothing." With a firm nod, she deliberately avoided both of their stares. "Not a thing at all."

"Okay _that_ doesn't sound suspicious," Harry teased. "I know he's older than you and all, but you've always been mature for your age. And the two of you really seem to get on."

She offered a flippant shrug, fixing her focus on Teddy in the distance, spinning and whirring by on his broom. "It doesn't matter. There are too many reasons why it wouldn't work out. Not least of all the fact that he'll be leaving London as soon as he can. He hates it here."

They all looked up in the back garden to see Andromeda and Regulus come around the house, elbows locked and grins on their faces. Andromeda released a bright peal of laughter.

"Clearly," Theo quipped, "he looks like he despises it."

"What he doesn't despise is Hermione," Harry affirmed. "I'm quite obtuse—" he fired Theo a scowl when the other man snickered "—but even I could see the way he looked at you the other day when I came over."

"Sounds like something's in the air," Theo teased.

"Besides," Harry went on and Hermione waited, refraining from rolling her eyes. "He asked _if they should come_ to dinner tonight."

Harry and Theo exchanged a look, their brows raised.

Scoffing, Hermione glared at them both. "He's living with me for a specific reason, and he's only here because he's helping me solve a case in the Department of Mysteries. Once it's concluded, he's moving back home, so there's no sense in getting attached."

Theo looked her square in the eye, amusement playing on his face. "Too late for that, I think."

As she caught the warmth in Regulus' stare across the yard, she feared he might have been right.

* * *

The evening went as well as Hermione could have possibly imagined. Regulus and Andromeda spent a long while talking alone, with Harry, Hermione, and Theo giving the pair of them peace to reconnect, but every so often when she looked up, she found Regulus' gaze locked on her.

When Andromeda introduced Regulus to Teddy, Hermione hadn't been able to force herself to look away, her heart constricting in her chest at the look on Regulus' face. He'd sat with the boy for a while, sharing stories about his days playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, and soon enough Harry had joined in that conversation, leaving Theo to visit with Hermione and Andromeda over a glass of wine with the picturesque beginnings of a beautiful sunset.

A wonderful meal had been the icing on one of the best nights Hermione could remember in a long time, and her heart was full by the time she and Regulus returned to her flat.

Her head felt a little fuzzy from the last glass of wine, her skin warm, but she made for her room, catching Regulus lingering at the edge of the sitting room.

He merely gazed at her, his grey eyes calculating and expression unreadable. At last he blew out a breath, glancing away.

"I wanted to thank you," he said quietly. "For bringing me here."

"Of course," she returned, caught off guard. "I needed your help, remember?"

He didn't respond to her attempt at humour, his expression pensive. "I know I gave you a hard time about returning home, but… I appreciate it." He released a long, cathartic breath of relief and Hermione glanced away with the stinging of her eyes. "It was wonderful seeing Andromeda tonight. And meeting Teddy. I think I'd forgotten how much I still have here."

"You'll just have to be sure you come back to visit," she breathed, staring hard at the wall. "After all this is over."

Swallowing, he offered a quiet, "Right." He took a step towards her, and before Hermione could comprehend anything, she found his arms wound around her.

Stunned, she only stood awkwardly in his embrace for a moment before coiling her arms around his middle, resting her face against his chest. Regulus was sturdy and warm, his body firm and his hold secure.

Hermione sucked in a careful breath, wondering whether he could tell how fast her heart was racing, but he only tightened his hold on her, dropping the side of his face into her curls as one of his hands splayed along her upper spine.

She didn't want to let go—didn't want to be the first to withdraw—and she realised in a startling but painful moment of clarity, she didn't want him to leave London. Allowing her eyelids to flutter, Hermione sunk into the feel of his arms around her, even as she knew she couldn't let anything happen between them.

Regulus couldn't be hers, even if she wanted him.

Biting down hard on her bottom lip, it was that thought that forced her away, shifting in his embrace, and he released her, colour painting his cheekbones.

"Sorry," he muttered, sweeping a hand through his hair. "I'll let you sleep. Good night, Hermione."

His grey eyes darted up to meet hers, just for an instant, and whatever she found in his stare threatened to crumble her resolve to dust. She whispered, "Good night, Regulus."

With a pained grimace, he rounded the corner and vanished into his room, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey everyone! I'm just so thrilled you're enjoying this story. I really appreciate all your kind words, and it means a lot that some of you are joining me in this ship for the first time. I hope you're all safe and healthy.
> 
> Many thanks to LadyKenz347 for her alpha reading.


	6. Chapter 6

"I've been thinking," Regulus hedged, leaning back in his seat.

Hermione glanced up from her work separating the layers of the magical signature on Sirius' blood tether, meeting his stare. "Fascinating." At his rolled eyes, she snickered. "What about?"

He glanced away, rolling his neck. "Potter's offer. To visit the old townhouse."

"Oh." Softening, Hermione set down her wand. "I'll reach out to him. Would you like me to come or would you rather go on your own? I usually see Harry on Fridays."

"Friday is good." He clicked his tongue several times before leaning forward; he usually wasn't so fidgety. "I think you should come—if you want to, that is. I might need to borrow some of your Gryffindor courage."

She smiled, touched that he'd want her with him when facing the ghosts of his past. "I'd be happy to. Here—take a look at this."

With a wave of her wand, the layers of the magical signature lifted, extending from the tether like a stratification of magic; it had been startling, to learn of the depth of magic within a simple strand. She slipped her wand beneath the tether itself, lifting the glowing filament up to eye level, and the layers all jolted with the movement.

"This one," Regulus offered, aiming with his own wand. "It looks different, somehow."

"It looks… _corrupted_ ," she mused, watching as the layers shifted and melded before flattening out again. Each sparkled in its own way except for one, which was dark and threadbare, as if it had been damaged or contaminated in some way. Lifting her stare, she called, "Unspeakable Sullivan?"

Her supervisor stalked over, slipping a pair of reading frames onto his face, and folded his arms as he approached, quickly assessing the stratification of signatures.

" _That_ is an issue," he announced, crouching down to look closer. With his own wand, he swept aside the layers on either side of it, enlarging the damaged layer. They all simply stared at it for a moment, and Hermione's brain whirred with the possibilities. "There's a chance this is what's preventing us from activating the tether."

"How do we fix it?" Regulus asked, a furrow in his brow. "Something tells me a simple _Reparo_ isn't going to mend a damaged magical signature."

Sullivan gave a wry chuckle. "Let's think of it like a length of rope—if one of the fibres is weakened, it could compromise the entire thing and the rope could snap. Now imagine a certain spirit holding on to the other end of the rope, adding pressure from the other side."

The blood drained from Regulus' face and he swallowed thickly. "We need to hurry."

"We need to _reinforce_ it," Hermione breathed, gaze fixed on the strands. "Can we bind the weak layer to the strong ones on each side of it? If we're dealing with the equivalent of a frayed fibre, I would hesitate to pull too hard. But if we can remove the strain from the fray, the rest of it might be strong enough to withstand."

"The question is," Sullivan responded, "whether the healthy strands will lend strength to the contaminated one, or whether the contagion will corrupt the rest. _That_ , Granger, is the challenge here."

Blowing out a breath, she nodded. For a fleeting moment, she met Regulus' stare and felt altogether too much weight on her shoulders. "Our other option is to treat the damaged thread as a bleeding limb."

"Good," Sullivan mused, "but can we stop the bleeding or do we need to amputate? A man's life hangs in the balance."

Regulus only dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head. Oftentimes the theoretical complexities of the magic they worked with went beyond his comprehension, and Hermione couldn't blame him. _She_ didn't understand it half of the time, either.

Feeling too many thoughts press against her mind, Hermione rubbed at her temple. "If we permanently disable the corrupted strand, we can't get it back. I think our best shot is to attempt to bind it to the rest—ease any pressure it bears. If things go wrong, or if the contamination begins to spread—"

Regulus huffed a wry, "Snip snip."

Sullivan nodded, summoning a chair of his own and drawing his wand. "This could take a while. Let's get started."

* * *

Rushing from her room, Hermione tugged a jumper on over her head, snagging in her hair halfway and leaving her vision obscured. Cursing, she tugged at the fabric, feeling hot and trapped.

Strong hands grabbed her arms, shifting her aside against the wall, and she finally broke free of her knitted prison to find Regulus smirking at her. "You know Potter isn't going to be upset if we're ten minutes late, right?"

"I know," she scoffed, caught in his eyes.

They hadn't made it out of the Department until half an hour prior to when they were due at Harry's, which barely left them time to get home and change. Hermione felt drained, a deep, soul-wearying fatigue which she had come to associate with magical strain.

For the past three days, they'd been working on the arduous task of sealing the damaged signature of the tether, and Hermione was beginning to feel desperate, knowing they were running up their limited window of time before the tether would be gone forever.

His expression faltered, and Regulus asked, "Then why are you so worked up over this?"

It occurred to her in that moment, his fingers still coiled around her shoulders and her back pressed to the wall, the precarity of the situation. Quietly, she admitted, "I don't know."

As he stared at her, his gaze searching, his grip tightened infinitesimally. "I'm glad you're coming with me."

Hermione needed to push him back, to step away, to get some air—but she couldn't move. Her mouth felt like sandpaper as she breathed, "Why?"

"Because." He fell silent, as if it were any sort of answer, then added, "Because I feel like you know me better than anyone right now. And I don't want to do this, but I need to."

One of his hands skated down along the smooth fibre of her sleeve, his fingers landing near her wrist, and Hermione wasn't sure she was breathing, her chest lifting with shallow efforts.

She could read the leagues of pain in his eyes, locked on hers, the downturn to his lips; could feel the warmth emanating from his chest, so close to hers. With her back to the wall, quite literally, she had nowhere to go even if she wanted to.

Regulus bit down on his lower lip, dragging the flesh between his teeth for a moment as his fingers tightened around her slender wrist, their pads rough against her bare skin.

"Regulus," she whispered, the word slipping from her on a thin exhale; she watched as his lips pressed together, his throat bobbing with a swallow.

It felt as if everything and nothing hung on the moment, timeless and infinite, and she didn't even know what was happening beyond the feel of his touch on her wrist, the grey depths of his eyes.

He planted his other hand to the wall, just to the side of her face, as if he needed the support.

Sucking in a tight breath, Hermione twisted her wrist, catching his hand in hers. His fingers slipped between hers, interlocking; his hand was firm as it coiled around her smaller one, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Idly, as if her heart wasn't pounding an anxious cadence against the interior of her chest, she tugged, drawing him closer towards her, and she was so warm she thought she might combust as his chest brushed against hers.

His hand on the wall tugged at one of her curls, twisting it between his fingers and sweeping it back, the very tips of his fingers grazing her jaw.

A breath hitched in her throat, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips as her gaze dropped to his mouth.

With a soft exhale, Regulus turned, pressing his temple against the side of her hair, and he murmured, "We need to go."

Her mind reeled. Stinging with embarrassment and shame, she looked away, releasing his hand while he withdrew from her, sweeping a hand through his hair as he made for the sitting room.

Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. After several long, deep breaths, she straightened her shoulders and followed.

* * *

When Hermione and Regulus arrived at Grimmauld Place, Harry and Theo's greetings had been shortly thereafter drowned out by Kreacher's wailing exclamations when he beheld the untimely return of his old master.

Despite Regulus' flippant comments about Kreacher when he and Harry met, Hermione could tell he too was wrought over the experience, especially given the elf had been the one to ultimately save his life.

Once Kreacher had ceased his blubbering and finally began to breathe again, though he refused to leave Regulus' side, Walburga's portrait began to fuss over the ruckus. Then when she realised who had come for dinner, she was inconsolable too.

Ignoring Regulus' narrowed eyes, Hermione retreated into the dining room with Harry, Theo, and a bottle of wine, leaving the man to fend off his deceased mother and former house elf. By the time he joined them, pouring himself a generous portion of merlot and downing it in one, he looked ready to go home.

"So far so good, then?" Hermione quipped, offering him a facetious smile.

Ribbing one another was safe ground if it meant she didn't have to think about whatever had happened back in her flat.

Regulus sighed, sinking into a seat at the table beside Hermione before topping up his glass. Kreacher skulked just behind him, craning his neck to see what they were doing.

"Kreacher?" Harry asked with a thin smile. "Is dinner nearly ready?"

"Yes Master. Is ready. Kreacher prepares Master Regulus' favourite meal." Soppy tears streaming down his cheeks, Kreacher released a great shuddering sob and stalked from the room.

Theo made a face and asked, "What's your favourite meal?"

"When I was eighteen?" Regulus asked with a shrug. "I can't remember. It probably wasn't anything extravagant."

The four of them waited in a heavy silence for a few moments before Kreacher returned, levitating several platters laden with enough fish and chips to feed a small village. Hermione stared, stunned, for a moment, before a muffled titter escaped her.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry announced. The elf merely stood along the wall, eagerly watching.

Regulus stared at the overwhelming offering of fried food, his lips parted, before he added, "Right, thanks Kreacher." Turning towards Hermione, who had plastered her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing outright at the sheer amount of food, he jabbed her in the arm with his elbow. "No judgement out of you, please."

"None," she choked against her palm.

Although she could see he was fighting off a smile of his own, she schooled her expression into something more neutral as his grey eyes flickered sidelong to find hers. Quietly, he murmured, "Good. Kreacher makes the _best_ fish and chips." Hermione snickered again.

"You certainly won't hear any objections from me," Theo announced, helping himself to a heaping plate.

With a smile, Hermione dug in.

* * *

Once the four of them had adequately stuffed themselves with fish and chips, Regulus quietly excused himself and ventured upstairs.

Watching him go for a moment, Hermione belatedly turned back towards Harry and Theo, pouring herself another glass of wine. "Can't remember the last time I ate so much." When Harry and Theo only exchanged a look, she cocked a brow. "What is it?"

"You seem awfully concerned, Hermione," Harry ventured. "Go with him if you like."

"No," she mused, glancing again towards the door. "I can only imagine he needs some time to himself, being back here."

"Merlin, the _tension_ between you two," Theo said, his eyes bulging emphatically. "Ever seen anything like it, Harry?"

"Nope," Harry returned, popping the 'p' sound. "It's extreme."

Hermione felt colour flare in her cheeks and glanced away, taking a large sip of her drink. "There isn't."

"Is she obtuse?" Theo asked Harry in an aside.

"Hey."

"Not obtuse," Harry teased. "Bit in denial, maybe."

Theo chuckled. "That must be it."

Discomfort raced through her as Hermione pointedly stared away from them both. "Whatever you _think_ you're seeing—you're not. There isn't anything going on between Regulus and I. There _can't_ be."

"Why?" Harry challenged. "Because he's older than you? Or because he doesn't live here?"

"Clearly he's been able to escape all the Sacred Twenty-Eight bullshit rhetoric," Theo added, waving a hand, "and believe me, as someone from another house in the twenty-eight, that says a lot about him in itself."

Hermione frowned at the pair of them across from her, folding her arms across her chest. "He isn't staying. And we're nothing alike. I'd only be opening myself up to get hurt."

Softening, Harry leaned in towards her. "We aren't meaning to push—I'm sorry. It's just been so long since I've seen you open up to anyone else, and the two of you seem to get on so well." Shrugging, he added, "And I think you're more alike than you realise."

"What _is_ he doing here, anyways?" Theo asked, leaning back in his seat with a wide yawn. "If he's not staying long?"

She thought for a moment of Sirius, and how Regulus had come all the way to London, had begun using his magic again, all in an effort to save his brother. In this very house, they had grown up together and embraced two entirely different belief systems.

"He's helping with a project," Hermione said quietly. "In the Department of Mysteries. And once it's through…"

For better or worse, she couldn't bring herself to add. Even if she _could_ tell Harry and Theo about Sirius and the blood tether, she didn't think she could live with herself if she were to carry around Harry's hopes and fail him. She couldn't stand the thought of letting down Regulus, let alone both of them.

Harry offered a somber nod. "Once it's through, you think he's going to go and that's the last you'll see of him."

"Yes." The word escaped as a quiet breath, her mouth dry. Hermione took another mouthful of wine, offering them a thin smile. "It's for the best that I just carry on as I always have."

She could see Harry and Theo exchange another covert glance, but they nodded, and she felt herself sink into her chair, a chill settled into her soul. Finishing her glass, she rose to her feet. "I suppose I'll go check on Regulus."

Without waiting for their retorts, she rose from the room and ventured upstairs.

Nerves settled along the surface of her skin as Hermione located the bedroom she knew to have been Regulus' when he lived at Grimmauld Place, and though the floor creaked where she stepped and the door was ajar, she knocked anyways.

"Come in," Regulus returned, and when she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her, she could see the fatigue in his face and the slump of his shoulders.

He sat on the bed, a box beside him and its contents spread about. Hermione shifted a book over and took up a seat facing him after toeing off her shoes, folding her legs beneath her. "Are you alright?"

"It's a lot." He fell silent for a moment, thumbing through some papers. "All at once. Kreacher, my mother, all these old things. Relics of a person I don't know anymore."

Her heart fluttered at his unfaltering honesty, and she drew an old Slytherin jersey from the box, _BLACK_ spelled across the back in blocky white letters. Fingering the soft material, she asked, "What position did you play?"

"Seeker." He stared at the jersey for a moment, shaking his head. Finally a hint of a smile curled his lips. "It was the only time at Hogwarts I actually enjoyed myself. We won a few house cups."

Smiling at the moment of levity, she mused, "Impressive."

"Keep it, if you like," he clipped, unfurling a Slytherin scarf from within the box and setting it aside. "It wouldn't fit me anymore."

Hermione carefully re-folded the jersey and set it on the bed beside her. "Thanks."

Pursing his lips, Regulus drew out a worn leather-bound notebook. "Don't even want to know what I wrote in here." He swept a hand through his thick hair, setting it aside. "Merlin, Hermione, if you'd met me back then you wouldn't have given me a second thought."

Her throat dry and thick with unspoken words, she managed a swallow. "It was a lifetime ago. For what it's worth, you aren't that person anymore."

Although his expression didn't shift, his eyes darted up to meet hers for a brief moment, carrying in them the sparkle she'd come to know. "Being in this house just brings it all back."

Glancing away, Hermione picked at a loose thread on the comforter. "I think it was brave of you to come. To face it all. Even if you never come back here again."

Regulus grimaced and echoed, " _Brave_ ," his lip curling with mocking disgust. Then he softened. "Thanks, Hermione." He was silent for another long minute, then added, "I ought to burn most of it."

"If it helps," she quipped.

He sorted through the contents of the box, setting a few select things aside, and tossing the rest of it in a pile that she was to assume was the heap to be burned. Hermione watched on in companionable silence, and some of the tension sank from his shoulders as he finished with the box and hauled another up onto the bed, beginning the process anew.

At last he announced, "I heard your friends downstairs when I left. Not much—I didn't want to eavesdrop. But I hope they aren't giving you a hard time because of me."

Feeling a stinging of warmth, she stared at the headboard. "No, it's fine. They just seem to think there's something going on between you and I."

When he snickered, she felt shame swirl in her stomach. But then his expression sobered. "I can't imagine why they think _you_ would ever give _me_ a chance. You could do so much better."

Hermione snapped her eyes back to meet his, a breath catching in her throat. She didn't have the slightest clue what to say to that—and it was dangerous territory to discuss such things. When more and more, she found herself watching him as they worked.

The way he would scratch at the stubble along his jaw when he was deep in thought, or the way his eyes brightened when he shared details of his life. The way he'd gradually come to relax around her, and how they would sometimes talk late into the evening about things of little importance. How his presence in her flat was reassuring enough that she hadn't had any nightmares since he'd been there.

And the times when she caught him watching her as well.

She couldn't say anything other than, "You'll be leaving."

Setting some papers aside, he looked her straight on, his head dropping just slightly to the side. "That was the plan. The fence and all that."

Clenching her jaw and cursing herself for her candidness, she quietly added, "I'll miss you."

A wry smile pulled at his lips. "And I'll miss _you_. Maybe I'll come back and visit."

"You hate London." The words escaped as a broken whisper and she could feel the unwelcome sting of moisture at the corners of her eyes, attempting to blink it away.

Regulus released a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head. "You're right. I do hate London. But maybe there are a few reasons that I could consider coming back again."

Hermione could feel her heart slamming in her chest and she forced herself to meet his stare again. His grey eyes seared into hers, flickers of slate and silver, and she found she couldn't bear the thought of him going.

At the look in his eye she felt a tear break free and she glanced away, hastily making to wipe it away when his fingers grazed her cheek, brushing away the moisture.

"I'm not worth your tears," he breathed, his fingers tracing the track along her cheekbone, setting her nerves on fire at his touch.

Swallowing, Hermione shook her head as she caught his fingers in her hand. Meeting his stare again, she whispered, "How could you not be?"

Then summoning her courage, she surged forward, pressing her lips against his. For a terrifying instant, his lips were soft but unresponsive, but then he kissed her back, and her entire being came alight at the touch, her eyes fluttering shut as he dragged his fingers along her cheekbone and back towards her hair, his lips insistent as he kissed her again.

Before Hermione could deepen the kiss or pull him closer, he drew back, pressing his forehead against hers. The warmth of his breath mingled with her own, his hand still buried in her curls.

Her heart raced with adrenaline, chest lifting with the effort of drawing breath as every fibre of her body sang with awareness of him.

"Hermione," he murmured, the low rumble of it shooting to her core. "We shouldn't, love."

"Why not?" she breathed against his lips, keeping her eyes shut, in case it was to be her last moment with him so close.

But he chuckled quietly. "I don't have a good answer to that."

Her lips quirked with a smile and she angled her face towards him again. "Then we should."

Regulus' lips brushed hers again, nipping her bottom lip, before he drew back fully with a groan, facing her on the bed. "You aren't making this easy to resist."

Staring at him and feeling emotionally wrought, she mused, "Why do you have to resist?"

He released a breath, his shoulders sinking. "I'm _eighteen_ years older than you."

"And?" Hermione challenged, her resolve threatening to falter. "I'm mature for my age."

"Oh I know," Regulus returned with a wry grin. "That's what makes it so difficult." His expression sobered and he ducked his chin to meet her stare. "How about the fact that I used to be a Death Eater?"

"And you aren't anymore."

"Hermione…" Staring at her, he trailed off and merely shook his head. "Merlin, you're beautiful." He took her hand into his, even as he murmured, "It just isn't a good idea."

Holding tight to his hand, lacing their fingers, Hermione stared down at the comforter. "You're the first person I've felt a connection with in years. I can't explain it, but I like having you around, and I'm so happy I've been able to get to know you." Silence hung in the space between them but she didn't have the nerve to look up, so she finished, "And you're right; it isn't a good idea. I just needed you to know I don't care about any of that."

Regulus was quiet for a long moment, then he shifted back to lean against the headboard, dragging her with him. Tucking herself into his hold as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she allowed herself to listen to the dull rhythm of his heart and to seek comfort in his embrace.

She didn't have any more words, and a small part of her shattered at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thanks so much for all your kind words everyone! I'm so happy so many of you are enjoying the story. I hope you liked the chapter!
> 
> Big alpha hugs to LadyKenz347.


	7. Chapter 7

After the conversation Hermione and Regulus had shared at Grimmauld Place—and the kiss—things between them had been decidedly awkward.

For her part, Hermione recognised the validity behind what he had said, and some of his reasons were her own as well. But she also realised he was in London for a greater purpose and she wasn't willing to allow her feelings to get in the way of doing her best to save Sirius.

Never mind the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about the feel of his mouth on hers. Or the way she had felt in his embrace.

They'd returned to work the following day with a seemingly unspoken agreement not to discuss what had occurred, and although it took Hermione longer than usual to get her head on straight, they were at a pivotal point in dealing with the blood tether, and they were running out of time.

Most Unspeakables didn't work on Saturdays unless their projects were time sensitive which was rarely the case. So Hermione, Regulus, and Unspeakable Sullivan—who seemed more determined now than ever, although for different reasons—were the only three in the Death Chamber.

Their efforts of the day before had managed a tentative bond between the corrupted strand of the magical signature and the one next to it, but there was still the matter of whether the contagion that had affected the damaged strand might spread.

Regulus looked pale, dark circles beneath his eyes as he spoke with Sullivan, and Hermione forced herself to look away.

Although she considered him a friend, that's all there was between them. He wouldn't want her worrying about him.

It was easy to lose herself in her work, and Hermione returned to her careful management of the blood tether a short distance from the veil. They'd erected a barrier around the veil itself out of caution, and Hermione was grateful for it. If she wasn't mistaken, the voices had become even louder since they'd started working on the tether.

Peering closer at the corrupted strand, she swallowed. "Unspeakable Sullivan?"

The two walked over and she manipulated the strands with her wand so they could see, unable to speak as her heart plummeted.

Slipping on his glasses, Sullivan surmised, "It's spread."

"It's what we were concerned about," Hermione added, unable to look Regulus in the eye. "If we can separate them once again we might be able to save the second strand."

"We can't risk that," Sullivan said with a frown, folding his arms. "If it spreads the length of the second strand, the tether will be severely compromised. And if it's spread once, it'll spread again."

"What can we do?" Regulus asked, sinking into his seat. "We can sever the damaged one, right?"

Sullivan nodded silently. "We can. The question is whether we will likewise need to sever the second."

"We could lose it," Hermione whispered, fear clenching her heart. "There's too much pressure to sustain the integrity of the tether if we remove too many strands."

Again, Regulus asked, "What _can_ we do?" The words were harder, edged with despair, and she forced herself to meet his stare.

Shaking her head, she breathed, "I don't know the best course."

"There _isn't_ a best course," Sullivan grit out. "Not as the tether continues to weaken."

"Is there _any_ course?" Regulus asked, louder still.

The three of them fell silent, Hermione's adrenaline coursing through her veins as she met Sullivan's stare. This was beyond what she knew, and he was the only one who had dealt with blood tethers in any form before. It was such wildly unknown magic that Hermione couldn't even comprehend how anything would work out.

At last Sullivan steepled his fingers, blowing out a breath. "We will need to bind the signature of the tether to another signature. It will allow us to _attempt_ to extract the tether from the veil. But this is a worst case scenario."

"What do you mean by another signature?" Hermione asked, cold dread creeping up her spine at the fear that she already knew the answer.

But Regulus said, "A human signature."

Sullivan's face was grim but he nodded. "A human signature will provide the grounding to this side of the veil that we're missing. And it will serve to strengthen the fragile signature of the tether. But it is dangerous."

Before Hermione could even look up and read Regulus' intentions on his face, he bit out, "I'll do it."

Hermione released a strangled, " _Regulus_."

As another tense silence descended upon the three of them, Sullivan only stared at the signature of the tether, swiping through the strands with his wand. He drummed the fingers of his other hand on the table, and Hermione felt her own desperation seep through into her being as she watched, hoping for any other answer.

"I need you to consider, Mister Black," Sullivan said softly, "what is at stake here."

He fell silent, still drumming the table, and it was the only sound in the chamber aside from the ghostly chorus emanating from the veil.

"There is no guarantee we will be able to rescue your brother," Sullivan went on at last. "And in the attempt, if anything goes wrong, your own signature could sustain damage. At best, magical damage. And at worst, the signature of the tether could claim your signature for itself. You could die."

Regulus' expression tightened, his jaw hard. "But could you get Sirius out?"

"It isn't certain," Sullivan clipped. "If we do not proceed, things will carry on as they were. Your brother will remain beyond the veil, and you will remain alive."

"They won't be as they were," Regulus ground out, "because I'll know I had the chance to help him and I chose not to." His eyes darted briefly to hers and away.

"Regulus," Hermione breathed, pressing her lips into a thin line to hold back her emotions. "This is dangerous. You could give your life in the attempt and it could still be unsuccessful."

"I can't _not try_!" he exclaimed, the words ringing out in the chamber.

Eyes burning, Hermione stared hard at her wand in her lap, uncertain whether she was even breathing. The thought of losing Regulus was so viscerally painful and she didn't even know when he had come to mean so much to her. She fixated on the vines creeping up her wand in an effort to keep her tears at bay.

At last Sullivan sighed, shaking his head. "Give it some thought, Black. This isn't a decision to make lightly. I'll reach out to some colleagues on the continent. Veils to the other side are rare but this isn't the only one—I'll seek another opinion and we'll come back to this tomorrow. Perhaps there is yet another way."

Regulus offered a stiff nod. "Very well."

Although Hermione could feel his stare on her, she couldn't bring herself to engage in conversation with him through the rest of the day for fear of what she might end up saying. Instead she retreated from the veil to her workspace, forcing herself to focus on something else.

She could see the indecision in Unspeakable Sullivan's face as he and Regulus spoke. Obviously the man wanted to learn more about the blood tether, but how could it be conscionable to put one man's life at risk for the slight chance of saving another who was already dead?

Especially when they didn't even know anything about rescuing a soul from the veil. Whether it would even be Sirius as he had been.

Mostly she dreaded the thought that in order to give a life, the veil might seek to claim a life in return.

Hermione couldn't wrap her head around it, and for the first time since Regulus had arrived in London, she left the Ministry without him at the end of the day. Instead of going straight home she walked as far as she could, forcing herself to carefully pick through her thoughts.

It wasn't her place to tell Regulus what he should and shouldn't do—that much was certain. She had only known the man a handful of weeks, and she had no comprehension for how she had come to care for him in such a short time.

But she had to admit to herself that she _did_ care for him in some capacity.

She didn't want him to die. Especially when it could be in vain if they weren't able to rescue Sirius after all.

Finding herself in a neighbourhood she didn't recognise with rain clouds brewing overhead to suit her melancholy mood, she ducked between two buildings and finally Apparated home.

Hermione didn't see Regulus, although the door to his room was closed. Exhausted and chilled to the bone, she dragged herself into a scalding hot shower.

If Regulus wanted to bind himself to the tether, that was his choice. She only hoped he would give it the proper care and consideration such a decision required.

When she finally emerged from the shower and dressed, feeling ready for sleep, Hermione forced herself into the kitchen to begin a mediocre meal.

Halfway through cooking, Regulus slipped silently into the flat, taking a seat at the kitchen table. When she only carried on cooking, he cleared his throat and asked, "Are you going to keep ignoring me all night?"

"I'm not ignoring you," she breathed, feeling more emotionally wrought than she would have expected. "I just don't think you want to hear what I have to say."

She heard him blow out a long breath as she swiped at her eyes, and he vanished from the room. Several moments later, she heard the shower running and carried on with her motions, cold and obligatory. Regulus returned shortly after she'd sat down to eat and helped himself to a plate, and the pair of them ate in an awkward, heart-wrenching silence.

When he rose and collected the dishes, she merely retreated into the sitting room, cocooning herself in a blanket as if it would protect her from the conversation she knew they needed to have.

Ten minutes later Regulus sunk into the seat beside her rather than at the other end, and he rolled his face along the back of the sofa. For the first time since that morning, Hermione looked at him.

His doleful grey eyes were imploring and his expression strained. "I know you think I'm being stupid."

"It's dangerous, Reg," she whispered. "We don't know if we can bring you both back out if something happens."

He sighed, pursing his lips, and it was only then that Hermione noticed he held an old bent photograph. Taking it into her hands, she looked closer; it was of two boys, Hogwarts-aged, and unmistakably Sirius and Regulus Black.

Sirius wore a wide, carefree grin, one arm tossed over Regulus' shoulders, and Regulus, a bit shorter, stood at his side, scowling. But as she watched, Regulus' eyes slid to meet Sirius' and his lips twitched with a smirk.

"I can't expect you to understand," Regulus said as Hermione clutched the photograph. He tugged one end of her blanket cocoon free from beneath her and wrapped it around himself as he shifted closer, his arm brushing up against hers. "For _so many years_ I've felt like I failed Sirius. He tried to help me and never gave up on me—and I just… I didn't listen. I had a second chance to get away from all this and live on my own terms and he never did."

She only set the photograph on the coffee table and whispered, "You feel like you owe him this."

"Yeah."

Despair crept into her heart, brushing aside her inhibitions, and Hermione snuggled into his chest; Regulus coiled an arm around her, drawing her in, and planted a barely-there kiss into her hair.

"Will you tell me?" he asked quietly, "what you knew of him."

A smile pulling at her lips at the memories, Hermione nodded. "We were in third year when we met Sirius; he'd broken out of Azkaban, and Harry thought he was being haunted by the Grim." Regulus snickered, a sad smile crossing his face.

Thinking back for a moment, she tittered, carrying on with the tale of how they'd come to meet Sirius. "Sirius wanted so badly to be a part of Harry's life. He anonymously sent Harry a high-end racing broom and I _may_ have overreacted, thinking it was cursed."

Regulus chuckled, his fingers flexing around her arm. "Classic Sirius."

Hermione fell silent for a long moment. "When Harry learned the truth, that Sirius was his godfather and innocent of the crimes he was convicted for, he was so excited. They both were. Harry was raised by abusive relatives, and the thought of being able to go live with Sirius…" Trailing off, she shook her head. "But it was a full moon and Sirius was caught after Remus turned, and he was sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss."

Releasing a sharp breath, Regulus turned to face her. "I didn't know any of this."

Adjusting her position on his chest, she went on. "I had a Time Turner that year because I was taking more classes than I had time for— _don't laugh_ —and Harry and I were able to go back a few hours and free Sirius, along with a hippogriff, Buckbeak; they escaped together. But since Pettigrew got away again, Sirius' name was never cleared."

Regulus snickered, nudging her in the side. "That sounds like you." Falling silent for another moment, he asked, "How did he die?"

"Another long story," she breathed, frowning as she recalled the situation during their fifth year. "Sirius was keen to help out, and desperate to look out for Harry. He didn't want to sit around and follow orders if it meant Harry's life was at risk." Blowing out a breath, she shared the details of how they had all ended up in the Department of Mysteries.

Hermione released a long, shuddering exhale, and finished, "Bellatrix knocked him into the veil. Sirius died fighting for what he believed in."

For a long while Regulus was silent, trailing idle patterns into her arm with his fingertips. "Thanks. For telling me." He swept his other hand through his hair, shaking his head slowly. "I know you don't understand why I need to do this, but I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't try."

Infusing as much wry flippancy as she could, she returned, "Awfully Gryffindor of you." The tremble in her words belied the effort.

He barked a laugh, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You must be rubbing off on me then." Then he snickered. "Merlin knows I've always been self-serving, and if it wasn't _Sirius_ …"

Although she knew she couldn't accept him putting his life on the line for a mission that may not even work out, she could accept the fact that it was important to him.

Untangling herself from him, Hermione sat upright once more and nodded. "I guess I know a thing or two about sacrificing for family."

His grey stare sought her own, offering a thin smile.

"I just need you to know," she went on, averting her gaze, "that I can't stand the thought of you not surviving, and if you don't make it I'll never forgive you."

She was rewarded a fond chuckle, and her own lips twitched. Regulus mused, "Maybe this was how it was meant to play out all along. You said my aging might have been connected to Sirius' death—maybe the magic has been tying the two of us together all this time and it's only now manifested into the tether."

"That's the only thing I can think as well," she admitted. "And if I had to guess, I would imagine setting the tether to rights will sort out the magic of everything else." She lifted her eyes to his once more, imploring. "Will you promise me something?"

"Maybe."

"If you bind yourself to the tether," she began, blowing out a deep breath, "and if you feel it going wrong—if it isn't going to work—you need to sever the connection."

He only stared at her, his expression softening, a furrow of despair in his brow. "You seem to care an awful lot about whether I survive this."

Fighting a watery titter, Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and huffed out, "Of course I want you to survive, you great pr—"

She was cut off by the swift press of his lips on hers, not soft and tentative like the night before but firm and insistent, his hands threading into her curls. Releasing a surprised puff of breath, she kissed him again, coiling her arms around his neck as her eyes slid shut.

Blood raced through her heart, adrenaline pounding in her veins as his tongue grazed hers, deepening the kiss and she felt on fire as she dragged him closer still, her fingers slipping into his lush hair.

The feel of his kisses was more than she could have imagined, the drive of his passion, the touch of his hands on her. His tongue teased hers, fingers tangling in her curls as he planted kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat, before he froze, breath warm against her skin.

"I thought you didn't want this," Hermione breathed, her chest heaving with the effort to draw breath.

His eyes snapped up to hers, darkened with lust, and he kissed her again, gentler this time. Against her mouth he whispered, "I never said I didn't _want_ it."

Biting down on his lower lip, and soothing the sting with her tongue, she rested her forehead against his. "You didn't promise," she mused, tossing the tangled blanket aside and shifting to straddle his lap. She kissed him again, a soft whimper breaking her lips at the way he made her feel.

"I can't," he said with a thick swallow, "make a promise I don't know I can keep." His fingers toyed with the hem of her jumper, his stare searing into hers.

Shifting to oblige him as he tugged the jumper over her head, leaving her in a tank top, she frowned. "Are you trying to say goodbye to me, because I swear to Merlin, Regulus Black—"

She was cut off by his laughter, a slow grin creeping across his face. "I wouldn't dare."

Burying her hands into his hair, snagging his earlobe between her teeth, she breathed, "I need you to make it through this." Shifting, she kissed him deeply again, infusing the kiss with as much emotion as she could, and his hands skated her sides as he kissed her back.

Hermione could feel her tears break free against his cheeks, grinding against him briefly and eliciting a quiet groan. One of his hands slipped beneath the back of her shirt, his fingers tracing the bones of her spine with a gentle reverence, their breaths mingling softly.

At last he whispered against her lips, "I promise." Regulus wound his arms around her, burying his face in her curls, and asked, "Stay in my room with me tonight?"

Eyes sliding shut, she nodded, feeling safe and secure in his hold.

When they finally separated, Hermione felt a chill sweep through her, a cold somber feeling as she prepared for sleep. She found him back in the sitting room, still staring at the worn photograph of him and Sirius, and his gaze flitted up to hers before he rose and set the photo down.

"Tomorrow we'll know," she whispered, offering a hand. "One way or the other."

With a silent nod he accepted her hand, tugging her into his chest. Then without warning, he hoisted her up over his shoulder, ignoring her squeak of surprise, and carried her into his room, dropping her onto the mattress with a gentle smirk.

Grey eyes teasing, Regulus carefully tucked her in as she stared up at him before he joined her in bed, face beside her on the pillow as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Then his arm wrapped around her middle, drawing her back towards him, his chest firm and steadying.

Lacing her fingers with his, she whispered, "Good night."

He swept her hair out of the way, planting a kiss to her jaw, and murmured, "Get some sleep."

Emotional fatigue warring with the dread in her soul, Hermione wondered idly which would knock her out first as she drifted to an uneasy sleep in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey everyone. Thanks so much for the wonderful reception to this story. I hope you enjoyed the chapter xoxo
> 
> Many alpha thanks to LadyKenz347.


	8. Chapter 8

Although Hermione slept through the night, she felt far from rested when she stirred into wakefulness the next morning. The first and only thought that passed her mind was that she could possibly be forced to watch Regulus die and there was nothing more she could do or say to persuade him otherwise.

His arms around her tightened a little, drawing her closer as he shifted in sleep, and a flash of terror darted through her at the thought that she had finally connected with someone and was now forced to come to terms with the immediacy of the fact that she might lose him so soon.

Warm and secure in his arms, Hermione allowed her eyes to flutter shut once more. For the first time she could remember in years, she didn't get up upon waking but settled back into the covers.

It was an exercise in futility, pushing the fear aside, but the attempt was all she had.

* * *

On a day when Hermione might have hoped for more time, it felt as if the minutes were racing past. Her morning routine with Regulus, which had already become so natural, flew past in a quiet, somber blur, and he gave her hand a brief squeeze before slipping his hands into his trouser pockets as they approached the Department of Mysteries.

"I'm choosing to have faith," he murmured softly, gaze locked on the black tiles. "That I'll see Sirius again. And that I'll see you again."

With a minute nod, Hermione whispered, "Okay."

The moment they breached the Death Chamber, she knew something was wrong.

Unspeakable Sullivan, usually so well put together, sported unruly hair and a dishevelled tie, his expression tight as he dragged them towards the veil.

"I spoke with my colleagues last night," he said, his hands a little shaky, as if he'd swapped coffee for sleep. Meeting Hermione's stare, he went on flatly, "None of them know of a way to repair a damaged blood tether. They're so rare to begin with."

Blowing out a breath, Regulus nodded. "We can bind the signatures though, right? If we can't repair it, we can reinforce it."

"Right." Sullivan hesitated for a moment, his wild stare swivelling to Regulus. "The good news is, this is still doable." Sweeping a hand through his hair, he went on. "The _bad news_ is that the tether has retreated."

With a started gasp, Hermione crouched down towards the veil. It wouldn't have been significant if she hadn't spent so much time staring at the glowing filament over the past weeks, but it had noticeably slipped back into the veil.

"I marked it when I got here," Sullivan said, tapping a mark on the floor. The tether had already moved further in. "An hour ago."

Although Regulus' grey eyes flickered to hers—so expressive and ethereal—and she could see the fear behind his irises, he nodded. "No time to waste."

"If the tether has retreated this far in only an hour," Hermione mused, gauging the distance, "and if it carries on at that pace…" Swallowing, she hesitated, voice dropping to a whisper. "It will be gone by tonight."

" _If_ it maintains this pace," Sullivan groused. "The less of a hold the tether has on this plane, the more likely it'll simply slip away."

Hermione tried to picture a length of rope resting on a flat surface above a vast chasm, and imagined it inching down.

"What do we need to do to prepare?" she asked, snapping to attention.

Sullivan had already begun rounding the veil, removing the obstructions they'd had in place for their own protection while working so close. "I've spoken with a magical core specialist at St Mungo's and they'll be en route shortly. In case something goes wrong, we'll secure Mister Black a direct route to the hospital."

Hermione could sense Regulus stiffen at her side and Sullivan froze.

"That is, of course, if this is still your decision."

"It is," Regulus allowed. "Just tell me what I need to do."

With a grimace, Sullivan folded his arms. "Once your signature is bound to the tether, Granger and I won't be able to reach you. You'll be going _in between_ , and from what my colleagues said, that will be your chance to withdraw your brother." His expression hardened, voice dropping. "You must realise, Black, that your time will be limited. Humans aren't meant to survive beyond this plane, and the very act of withdrawing someone from the veil is in defiance of the laws of life and science as it is."

"So I have to find Sirius," Regulus ground out. Hermione could see the slight tremble to his hand.

Sullivan nodded. "He'll be on the other end of the tether. Your job is to maintain its integrity and _get out_. If you get stuck in there, the tether will be gone with you and we won't be able to retrieve either of you."

"Very well." Releasing a long breath, Regulus cast her a hard look and Hermione offered a steadying hand to his arm. He looked pale. "Let's get this over with before I lose my nerve."

"Before we do, Black," Sullivan said, peering over his glasses at Regulus. "You need to know the Department of Mysteries appreciates your efforts here. I spoke with a connection in the Wizengamot a few days ago, and the paperwork has just been officially processed."

With a flourish of his hand, he presented a coil of parchment. Cautiously, Regulus unfurled the roll, his expression faltering as he scanned the page. When he shifted the parchment towards Hermione, she caught one word before her eyes began to blur.

_Pardoned_.

"No matter what you did in the past," Sullivan said gruffly, "it doesn't matter anymore. Welcome back to society, Black."

"Thank you sir," Regulus said, proffering a hand as he blew out a long breath. The pair shook hands and Hermione made a desperate effort to keep from crying at the relief she read in Regulus' stance. "I appreciate it more than I can say."

Sullivan nodded just as his wand began to buzz, and he excused himself for a moment with a brisk, "That will be the healer." Regulus coiled the parchment once more before tucking it in his pocket.

Then his eyes lifted to hers and Hermione hastily swiped at her tears.

"Once you're in there," she began, forcing herself to stick with logic lest she break down entirely, "you need to find Sirius and get out. If you can't find him, or can't reach him for whatever reason, _get out_."

"I know," he breathed, taking her hand into his. She clung to his hand like a vise.

"You promised," she hissed, staring hard at him. "I know you want to save Sirius, and I do too—but if you _can't_ you need to—"

"Hermione." Pressing his lips into a thin line, he nodded. "I know."

With a great, shuddering breath, she went on. "Because _someone_ needs to paint the fence and I'm not doing it if you don't make it back out."

A surprised huff of laughter escaped him and he gave her a slow, heart-rending grin. "Forget the damn fence," he muttered, "I have to get back because I have this bad feeling if I don't survive you'll fish me back out just to kill me yourself for breaking my promise."

Her titter turned into a sort of choked sob and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. "Be safe, Reg."

Regulus dragged her into his arms, planting a lingering kiss to her lips before burying his face in her curls. "Thanks, Hermione. For everything."

Just as they drew apart, Sullivan returned with an older woman in green St Mungo's robes, her hair greying but eyes sharp.

"This is Healer Burton," Sullivan introduced, "Britain's foremost magical core specialist. She will be monitoring Mister Black for the duration of the procedure."

He made the entire thing sound like nothing more than an everyday, clinical process, and the thought of it put Hermione's nerves at ease more than anything else. They worked with strange magic all the time—although rarely did lives hinge directly on the results. Even so, it was reassuring to know that Healer Burton's presence could be helpful for Regulus' survival.

Sullivan summoned Regulus a chair and Burton set up several magical devices on a small table, connecting some of them to Regulus, and Hermione simply gripped his hand, offering as much comfort as she was able.

She didn't know the magic to bind his core to the tether, so she was left to watch as Sullivan performed the complex spell, her heart beginning to race as the length of the tether that still existed on their side of the veil wound from Regulus' ankles and upwards, the glowing of the magic twisting with his wand arm and reaching towards his heart, before simply vanishing into him.

Regulus' head drooped forward as the magic spread, encompassing his magical signature with its own.

At last Sullivan stowed his wand, clasping his hands at his front. Healer Burton checked a few things on her devices and nodded.

"Now," Sullivan breathed, "we wait."

* * *

Five minutes had passed, but it might as well have been five hours by the way Hermione's adrenaline raced through her as fear with each passing second that Regulus didn't wake.

She could see the gentle lift and fall of his chest, the slight twitch of his fingers where they rested on his knee, and she found herself voraciously watching Healer Burton as the woman kept a close eye on Regulus' vitals.

"Heart rate is normal," the woman would say, or, "his signature remains strong."

It was the only thing that kept Hermione from spiralling into her nerves as time continued to draw on.

Unspeakable Sullivan shifted at her side, his hard gaze fixed only on the veil, even as he nodded in response to Burton's updates.

At last Hermione glanced down at her watch. Ten minutes had passed since Regulus had dropped off into a different plane of existence altogether. Idly, a part of her wondered what he was seeing; she tried to remind herself she would be able to ask him all about it when he returned.

Several other Unspeakables were working in the chamber, and they'd all gathered a safe distance back from the veil. It wasn't every day, even in the Department of Mysteries, that they experienced new and untested magic.

But still more time passed, and the only thought she could fixate on was the one that humans weren't meant to exist between planes.

"Should he still be in there," Hermione whispered, her mouth dry and heart pounding.

"It takes time," Sullivan returned, but he shifted again, his expression faltering. "Healer Burton?"

The woman was silent for a long moment as she checked her varying devices. "He is beginning to weaken. The window is closing."

Clenching her jaw, Hermione forced herself to suck in a breath between her teeth. "Come on, Regulus."

"Can you pull him out?" Sullivan asked, "if he doesn't return on his own."

"Potentially but I cannot say with certainty." Burton frowned. "Drawing him out will risk damage to his magical core."

"But he would live?" Hermione asked sharply.

Casting a spell on one of her mechanisms, Burton recited under her breath before looking up again. "That would depend on the extent of the magical damage. If his core were to burn out entirely, he could die."

"So our best hope," Sullivan mused, "is for Black to retreat on his own."

Realistically, Hermione understood the nature of obscure, untested magic better than most. But in this particular case, the risks of dealing with such matters were more abundant than ever before. Attempting to focus in on the possible scenarios in an effort to distract herself, she found herself staring at the gentle tap-tapping of Regulus' fingers against his leg.

As long as he was alive and functioning, that was all that mattered.

"The situation is growing dire," Healer Burton announced, her mouth pursed as she scanned Regulus once more. "If we are going to draw him out, it will need to be soon."

Still, Regulus' fingers tapped a persistent rhythm, but if anything the shaking in his hand had increased. Hermione fought the urge to reach for him, unwilling to interfere in any way with the results.

If he was still following the tether, she had to hope that he was close. _He had promised_.

But simultaneously, her stomach dropped. Rescuing Sirius had been more important than saving himself, and she knew that if it came to it, Regulus would risk himself to give Sirius the chance at a fresh start he'd never been afforded.

Nausea churned in the pit of her being, her eyes blurring.

"We need to act now." Burton's sharp words drew Hermione from her thoughts, tears breaking from the corners of her eyes as she blinked several times in rapid succession.

Clenching his jaw, Sullivan nodded, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. "Sever it. Pull him out."

" _Wait_ ," Hermione whispered, her eyes flickering up towards the veil as she lifted a hand in pause. The voices grew louder, the fluttering of the veil increasing to the point where it blew and twisted in the otherwise stagnant air of the chamber. Choking out a breath, she hissed, "Come _on_ , Regulus."

The three of them stared at the veil, the shimmery black curtain billowing as if caught in a tornado, and all at once the chorus of voices silenced.

The curtain ceased all movement; an eerie peace crept through the room, and Hermione realised she was no longer breathing.

A man appeared on the ground, face-down on the stone plinth, hair dark and dishevelled, and gradually, the whispering continued, the gentle wavering of the veil once more intruding on the silence as if nothing had happened.

Regulus slumped in his seat, and Healer Burton released a great sigh. "The connection has been severed."

Clapping a hand to her mouth, Hermione's chest heaved with a sudden influx of wild emotions. She gasped, "He's done it."

But Burton's face was grim. "He's very well damaged his core after so long. I'll need to get him to St Mungo's—both of them—so I can assess the damage. Instantly." With a wave of Burton's wand, she summoned two magical stretchers, and another wave threw all of her instruments into a satchel.

Still, Hermione was afraid to touch Regulus' prone form, and the only assurance was the slight lift and fall of his chest. Her eyes swept to the man on the floor and she breathed, "Sirius."

Sullivan clapped a hand to Hermione's shoulder, startling her, and she met her superior's stare with wide eyes. "Are they going to be alright?"

It was a poor question to ask, when none of them knew, and Sullivan only frowned. "We don't know."

Healer Burton maneuvered both Sirius and Regulus onto her stretchers, her movements careful and precise. Drawing something from her pocket, the woman threw it to the ground, and all three of them vanished from the chamber.

The Unspeakables who had witnessed the entire procedure retreated, speaking rapidly between themselves, and Hermione thought it an odd juxtaposition that she would have found the entire thing fascinating too, had the circumstances been different.

Had it not been Regulus' life at risk.

"Get some rest, Granger," Sullivan said. "You've hardly taken a day off in weeks. We won't know anything for a while, and if I hear from Healer Burton I'll let you know immediately."

"No," she breathed, shaking her head. "I need to go to St Mungo's. Make sure they're alright."

Staring at her for a moment, Sullivan nodded and offered a rather forced smile. "Very well, but you might be waiting a while. And I'd better not see you here tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione breathed. Dashing to her workspace, she collected her bag and rushed from the chamber.

* * *

Waiting at St Mungo's was an entirely different form of torture, when Hermione had nothing to keep her mind busy and distracted from thoughts of the many ways in which thing could have gone wrong.

She attempted to read for a while, but after half an hour she'd only made it through three pages and she stowed the book. After flipping through a volume of _Witch Weekly_ , Hermione found she was only staring at the photographs, and she gave up on that as well.

Pacing the waiting room only fuelled her nerves, and she took to strolling the corridors and climbing the stairs to the highest floor and back.

As she was picking at a scone from the cafeteria, several hours after she'd arrived, a training healer in lime green robes emerged into the waiting area.

"Are you Unspeakable Granger?"

"Yes," she breathed, forcing herself to swallow a breath. "That's me."

The healer only dropped his head sideways towards the door from which he'd emerged. "Healer Burton said you can come in."

Inching through the door with her breath held, Hermione scanned the room briefly in an instant. On the far side of the room she could see Sirius' scruffy black hair and forced a thick swallow. The man looked as he had ten years ago when he had fallen through the veil; maybe the lingering magical connection between the two brothers _did_ explain why Regulus had barely aged in a decade.

It had been hypothetical for so long, but now that he had actually been pulled back through the veil, they would finally have the chance to clear his name.

But on the bed nearest her was Regulus, his face peaceful in sleep.

"Unspeakable Granger," Burton said, interrupting her thoughts. "We've done everything we can for now but we still won't know the full extent of anything until he wakes. The potential saving grace was that he was able to sever the tether himself from within without my having to force it externally. But he was bound to the tether for so long it's difficult to say exactly what might have happened there."

Hermione nodded, slipping into the chair at Regulus' bedside. "I understand. Thank you for everything, Healer Burton."

"Of course." The woman and her assistant both slipped from the room, leaving Hermione alone.

It was infinitely reassuring to see Regulus' face, and to know that he was alive. _And_ that he had saved Sirius, however that looked, because she knew he wouldn't have forgiven himself if he made it out but Sirius didn't.

She took his hand into hers, limp and unresponsive, and interlaced her fingers with his. Even unconscious, his touch gave her a sort of strength and courage she never would have expected, and she pressed her lips gently to the back of his hand.

Dragging the chair as close to his side as she could get, Hermione finally allowed some of the tension to sink from her. He was alive and there was nothing else to be done for it right now. Drawing comfort from his touch, she allowed herself to relax at last.

* * *

Hermione nodded in and out of sleep, snapping awake when the door swung open behind her. Healer Burton walked into the room, checking on both patients, and while Hermione watched she felt a hand curl around her shoulder and spun, eyes widening with surprise.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, untangling her hand from Regulus' and rising to her feet to embrace her friend.

"Your supervisor just informed me you were here," Harry said, an apologetic grimace on his lips, "or I would have come earlier."

She waved him off, opening her mouth to speak, but Harry peered closely at Regulus.

"What happened to him? Is he going to be alright?" A heavy furrow sat in his brow as he looked her way, and Hermione was touched to see the concern in his face. "Or is this to do with your project in the Department of Mysteries?"

"It is," she returned softly. "There's a chance he's damaged his magical core but we won't know for certain until he wakes up." Considering her words for a moment, she went on. "Harry, there's something else. I wanted to tell you but I just couldn't, and…"

Hermione nodded across the room, watching Harry's stare as he followed her direction. His expression transitioned from curiosity, a flicker of consternation, and then a sharp intake of breath coupled with disbelief.

"Hermione, is that—"

Clapping a hand to his mouth, Harry strode across the room to peer down at Sirius' immobile form. Hermione followed, lacing an arm around his back as he stared down at his long-deceased godfather. Swiping at glassy green eyes, he breathed, "How is this possible?"

"Something called a blood tether," Hermione mused, leaning into his side. "It's what led me to Regulus in the first place. A means by which to pull a soul from beyond the veil."

"I can't—" Harry choked, shaking his head. "I can't believe this. Are they going to be okay?" His hand gripped her shoulder hard, his knuckles white.

She only whispered, "We don't know just yet." Withdrawing from Harry's side, she added, "I'll leave you with him for a while."

Harry sunk into a chair, mouth open with a myriad of emotions flickering across his face, and Hermione retreated back to her seat at Regulus' side, drawing her knees up into her chest.

Thinking back on the past weeks, Hermione marvelled at how easily she had come to relate with Regulus, despite their rocky initial meetings. She longed desperately for his eyes to crack open, teasing and full of life. For the easy banter that flowed between them.

For the feel of his arms around her, and the touch of his lips on hers.

Beyond that, Hermione didn't know about any of the rest of it.

Taking his hand into hers again, she rested her face against his knuckles, letting her eyes fall shut.

"I need you to wake up," she whispered, imploring her words to reach him somehow. "Because you promised me you'd come back. And if you don't wake up that invalidates your promise." A breath hitched in her throat and she pushed on. "And I told you I wouldn't forgive you if you don't come back."

His hand in hers remained unresponsive and Hermione sighed, sitting up in her seat once more, clenching his hand between both of hers.

Hardening her jaw and furrowing her brow, she forced her tears to remain at bay. "Your fence _desperately_ needs a coat of paint, Regulus, and if you think _I'm_ going to do it—" A choked sob slipped free of her lips, moisture breaking from her eyes. Her voice fell to a hoarse whisper. "You're crazy."

Staring hard at his blank expression, she felt her fear and anger well up as one. "Do you hear me?" she asked, glaring at him. " _You_ need to be the one to fix the fence because—"

"Wouldn't trust you to paint the bloody fence anyways," he grumbled, his hand flexing in hers, and she sucked in a harsh breath, tears spilling down her cheeks. One of his grey eyes cracked open. "Can't have a peaceful nap without you harping on about the fence?"

"Regulus," she breathed, staring at him. "You're okay."

"Promised, didn't I?" He grimaced as he attempted to shift in bed. "What happened?"

Hermione could only gape at her as Harry came up alongside her. "You don't remember?"

The bridge of Regulus' nose wrinkled for a moment and he offered a sort of noncommittal gesture. "Bits of it I guess. Got Sirius out?"

"Barely," she whispered, "but yes."

"Potter." Regulus offered a stiff nod.

"Regulus, Mate," Harry returned, shaking his head. "Can't believe you—"

They were interrupted as Healer Burton and the training healer bustled into the room, and Hermione and Harry were forced back from the bed.

"Unspeakable Granger," Burton said sharply as her gaze slid to Harry. She added with a nod, "Auror Potter—I need to ask you both to step back out to the waiting room while we run some tests on Mister Black."

Regulus caught her stare, a wry smirk pulling at his lips as he fluttered his fingers in a facetious wave.

With a bright laugh of relief, Hermione allowed Harry to steer her from the room, feeling lighter than she had in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey everyone, thanks as always for reading! Only two chapters remain. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Alpha hugs to LadyKenz347.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I think AO3 has worked out most of their e-mail issues, but please be sure you've read the last chapter to be safe! xo

Regulus was grouchy, but Hermione had spent enough time with him to tell that he was attempting to hide it. Still, the tense set of his shoulders and heavy furrow of his brow gave him away as he stared at an empty mug on the table.

"Will you take a break?" Hermione asked, cleaning up around him. "You know Healer Burton said it could take a while for your magic to return to full strength."

His upper lip curled with a hint of disdain but he didn't respond.

"It's only been three days," Hermione went on, nudging him in the shoulder. "I'm not certain what you're expecting—you completely burnt out your core."

When he still didn't respond, dropping his wand from limp fingers as he scowled at the mug, Hermione slipped into the seat beside him.

"You lived without magic for twenty-five years," she snickered, "a few weeks shouldn't bother you."

Ever since Healer Burton had declared Regulus healthy enough to leave her close observation at St Mungo's, he had been attempting to dredge up any hint of his magic, severely damaged in the effort to draw Sirius from the veil. According to Burton, he was lucky his magic was even showing signs of rejuvenating at all, with the way the magical signature of the tether had latched on so aggressively to his own.

"That was different," Regulus clipped, though his lips twitched. "That was by my own choice to keep from being discovered. It's an entirely different matter being _unable_ to access my magic."

Hermione swiped the empty mug and walked it to the sink, casting a cleaning spell on the collection of dishes. "You could be learning to _walk_ and talk again like Sirius." Leaning against the wall, she eyed him for a moment. "Any changes?"

"Not today," Regulus said with a sigh, giving up on his mediocre attempts to summon his magic and walking with her into the sitting room. "Healer Burton reckons it's amazing he's even able to process words at this point, given all of his cognitive functions were dead for ten years. She's recommended intensive mind therapy."

"It _is_ quite remarkable," Hermione mused, "that he still bears any resemblance to the Sirius we once knew."

Much like Regulus' damaged magic, it would take time for Sirius to be fully functional once more. But Harry had buried himself in the task of presenting Sirius' case before the Wizengamot to clear his name once and for all. Both he and Regulus had spent most of their time at St Mungo's, and taking their cue from the healers working on his recovery, they had high hopes.

"It is," Regulus conceded, dropping into the sofa and rolling his face towards her as she took up her spot. "Of course Potter's offered to pay for it but the Black coffers should still have enough to cover it." He stared at her for a long moment, embedding a twist in her stomach. "When are you going back to work?"

In the aftermath of dealing with the blood tether and withdrawing Sirius from the veil, Regulus hadn't made any move to touch her or continue what they'd started several nights prior. Hermione had been able to feel him withdrawing, and the invisible barrier between them made her uncomfortable—she suspected it had something to do with the fact that he would soon be returning home.

"Monday," she responded, tucking her feet beneath her. "Unspeakable Sullivan told me if I show up before then he'll send me home."

After working every day for several weeks, Sullivan had not so subtly forced her to take some time off. Hermione had appreciated the offer, with both Regulus and Sirius recovering from the ordeal.

"Speaking of Sullivan," Regulus said gruffly, running a hand through his hair. "I received a satchel of galleons. A _significant_ amount."

Hermione shrugged, fidgeting with her hands. "You spent a lot of time working on the project. He told me he submitted your time as a consultant and… well, the Department of Mysteries pays well."

Regulus cocked a brow. "I see that." Cracking a slow grin, he added, "It's the first money I've earned in the wizarding world, believe it or not."

For a moment, she stared at him, startled. But as a youth from such a highly regarded and affluent household, he never would have had cause to have a job before he turned eighteen and at that point he left the wizarding world. She released a quiet titter.

"Maybe you'll be able to re-paint the whole cottage," she mused.

Regulus' grey eyes snapped to hers, his jaw clenching, and he nodded. "Maybe."

So many things had sat unspoken between them ever since he drew Sirius from the veil, not least of which the kisses they had shared. And Hermione hadn't been keen to bring it up when he'd had other, more pressing matters to deal with.

"Now that Sirius is out, will you be returning home soon?" she asked, making an effort to keep her interest casual.

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I probably should. Get out of your space."

With a quick nod, Hermione plastered a smile to her lips. "Of course."

"I'd like to keep an eye on Sirius," he added after a moment. "Although I suppose it isn't that long of a drive. If I can get my magic to work I'll be able to Apparate."

Idly, she suggested, "You could connect to the Floo network. If you've got a fireplace."

Regulus' stare landed on hers, the skin around his eyes tightening. "One might think you're going to miss me."

"Of course I'll miss you, Reg," she murmured, dropping the pretense. "And I don't mind that you're still staying here."

Releasing a sigh, he tugged her hand into both of his. "And I will miss you." He held her stare a moment, longer, his expression faltering. "Maybe you'll come visit the cottage sometime."

It was the first time he'd touched her with any sort of intentionality since the morning he'd gone into the veil, and her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of it, at the gentle drag of his thumb along her knuckles. Her mouth felt dry.

"Yes," she breathed, shaking her head. "Sure. That's fine."

His stare dropped as he glanced around the room. "I thought maybe you could teach me how to summon a Patronus after all."

Her skin felt warm at the mention of it, and the casual flippancy with which he suggested he'd gained some good memories since being back in London. Giving his hand a squeeze, she nodded.

"Andromeda's invited us for dinner Friday," he went on, glossing over the moment. "Did she owl you?"

Hermione hummed, leaning her head back against the sofa. "She did. I think she's a little overwhelmed having so much family back in her life all of a sudden. It'll be Sirius' first excursion from St Mungo's, won't it?"

"Yes," Regulus said, his eyes lighting up with an enthusiasm she'd seldom seen. "He's looking forward to it, though he doesn't quite understand what he'll be doing."

Smiling, she eyed him for a moment. "You've been good to him."

His face fell but he only shrugged. "I was a lousy brother before—now I have another chance to look out for him."

Though she was hesitant to say so, Hermione suspected Regulus would be spending more time in London than he was keen to let on. She allowed a gentle fluttering of hope to flicker across the back of her mind along with the feel of his hand in hers.

"I think," she breathed, meeting his gaze, "you're going to be an excellent brother this time."

His slow answering grin set off everything inside of her.

* * *

It had been years since Hermione had experienced such jubilance at a familial gathering.

Andromeda had been on the verge of joyful tears all night, having both Regulus and Sirius back in her life. Teddy had been keen on spending time getting to know his older cousins, and Harry and Theo looked more at ease with one another than Hermione had ever seen. Watching Harry watch Sirius, Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him with such a carefree grin.

Sirius had been discombobulated but curious about everything going on. He remembered Andromeda in the same sort of vague, blocky way he remembered Regulus and Harry, with pieces of his past still filtering back in as memories arose.

He had been filled in on everything that had happened, and the healers took his understanding of the situation as a positive sign that he would be able to retain the memories as they returned. Although he required a cane to get around and announced he was fatigued shortly after dinner, Hermione had found a smile glued to her face all night.

Even with the bittersweet reminder that Regulus would soon be returning home, Hermione felt her own tears sting her eyes as Andromeda drew her in for a tight hug at the end of the night.

She bit down hard on her lower lip to quell the emotions when Regulus embraced Sirius, speaking quietly in his ear before pulling away. And she looked away from the glossiness to his eyes when Harry and Theo escorted Sirius back to the hospital.

At last Regulus nudged her in the arm. "Should we go home?"

Something about the thought that he had come to consider her flat home allowed warmth to bloom in her chest, despite the truth that it wasn't. Looping an arm around his back, she nodded and Apparated them back to her flat.

When they landed, Hermione untangled herself from him, walking into the kitchen with a brisk, "Tea?"

"Tea is fine, love," he said, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets as he leaned on the threshold into the kitchen, watching as she set the kettle on. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Hesitating, Hermione stared at the stove for a moment before glancing up. "Yes?" At the look on his face, her heart sank. "You're going home, aren't you."

"Sunday." He offered a slow, belated nod. "You'll be back to work on Monday and… it's time I return to my life. I can't just run away again."

Plastering a smile onto her lips, Hermione said, "That's fine. I respect that."

Quietly, he mused, "You won't have to worry about sharing the hot water anymore."

"You know I don't care about that," she said, a breath catching in her throat. Chewing her bottom lip, she turned back towards the stove and fixated on the kettle to hold back the tears that once more threatened to break free. "I've been happy to have you stay here."

Regulus was silent for a moment before he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle. His face came to rest on her shoulder. "I know. And I'm grateful for everything."

Lifting a hand to his where it rested on her stomach, she gave it a squeeze. "I'm just glad everything worked out with Sirius."

"Me too," he said, the low rumble of his voice by her ear sending a shiver down her spine. "More than I can say."

A breath caught in her throat as his other hand grazed her side, his fingers trailing along her collarbone, leaving her skin warm and a lump in her throat.

Summoning her courage, Hermione announced, "I'm going to come see you, you know."

Beside her ear, he breathed, "I know."

His lips grazed the skin behind her ear, so softly she might have thought it her imagination if not for the fact that he caught her earlobe between his teeth moments later.

A breath chased from her lungs, her head dropping back against his shoulder, and Regulus pressed a series of kisses to her jaw, turning her face towards him so her lips met his. Reaching a hand back to entangle in his lush hair, she sunk back into him as she kissed him, his other hand sliding beneath the hem of her shirt.

A quiet groan slipped her lips as he deepened the kiss, delving into her mouth with a teasing patience that awoke her nerves to the way he made her feel.

Regulus' hand grazed the bare skin of her stomach, his fingers playing along her ribs as he kissed her harder before catching the cup of her bra in his palm. Hermione could feel the hardness of his arousal against her arse, and with a sharp exhale she ground back, curling her fingers in the denim on his thigh.

When he caught her bottom lip sharply between his teeth her eyes snapped open, meeting his grey irises darkened with lust. He clenched his jaw as he swallowed, maneuvering her around to face him before hitching her up onto the countertop.

Coiling a hand in the collar of his shirt, Hermione pulled him in again, kissing him with fervour as she threaded a hand into his hair, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Hermione," he breathed, the word a quiet exultation before he drew back, tugging her shirt over her head in a brisk movement. For a flicker of an instant, his eyes traced her bare skin, and then he was kissing her again.

Everywhere he touched he brought to life, and Hermione needed to be closer still, her fingers slipping the buttons of his shirt and pushing the fabric from his shoulders as she kissed him, the air between them growing desirous in its intensity.

His fingers dropped to her jeans, fidgeting with the closure, and they both startled apart at the sudden, shrill cry of the kettle.

Regulus stared at her for a moment, blindly fumbling for the dial on the stove, before he pursed his lips with a swallow, dragging a hand through his hair.

Hoarsely, he asked, "Do you want tea?"

A surprised laugh chased from her lips; staring at his mouth she whispered, "No."

His chest lifted and fell with harsh breaths and he huffed a laugh. "Good."

Hermione laced her arms around his neck, kissing him again and drawing herself against the bare skin of his chest. His hands dropped to her hips, down along the curve of her arse.

Without warning, he wrapped a strong arm around her back, lifting her from the counter and palming her arse as she locked her legs tighter around him, dragging his bottom lip between her teeth as she met his gaze while he carted her through the sitting room to the corridor outside his room.

Regulus stared at her as if he had something to say before setting her down gently to her feet.

"I don't," he began with a sigh, "want you to do anything you don't honestly want to."

Staring up at him, Hermione hummed, releasing the buckle of his belt. Licking her lips she breathed, "Why would I do that?"

"Just because I'm leaving, or something." He looked as if the effort to refrain from touching her was physically painful.

Undoing the closure of his jeans, Hermione smiled. "How chivalrous of you." She pushed the jeans from his hips, holding his stare. "I certainly don't intend to do anything that I'm not interested in."

As she palmed him through his shorts, his eyes flashed with a ground out, " _Fuck_ , Hermione."

"Yes," she mused against his lips, "that's the plan."

Mouth pulling up into a breathtaking smirk, he shook his head, and with a quick flick of his fingers he released the clasp of her bra, letting it fall to the floor with his jeans.

Biting down on his bottom lip around a grin, he dragged his stare over her, and his languid perusal set her on fire, heat flaring and tensing in her core. Then he pulled her into the room and tossed her into the bed, staring at her for a long moment more before climbing atop her.

A cry escaped her lips as he laved one of her breasts with his lips and tongue, palming the other and tweaking her nipple with his fingers. Her back arched from the bed at his careful ministrations, his other hand dropping to undo her jeans.

Leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her clavicle down to her abdomen, Regulus pulled her jeans free of her hips and tossed them to the floor before looking up at her, toying with the lace of her knickers.

Dragging her lower lip between her teeth, Hermione nodded, breaths chasing from her lungs with the racing of her heart.

Pressing a kiss to her hip, he dragged his teeth along the cut of the bone before tugging her knickers free, tossing them to the floor. He kissed along her thigh, sending shivers of desire chasing through her, before tracing his tongue along the sensitive flesh of her other thigh.

"Reg," she gasped, eyes fluttering shut at the sensations chasing through her, and she buried a hand into his hair as his tongue flicked out to taste her. A moan escaped her lips, toes curling as he dragged the flat of his tongue along her opening before slipping two fingers inside of her, setting a slow, languorous rhythm.

He latched his lips to her clit, teasing the bundle of nerves with his tongue, drawing nonsensical whimpers from her, overwrought with pleasure.

Hermione coiled her fingers in his hair, legs tensing as with one last flick of his tongue she fell over the edge, vision darkening with a cry of his name.

Withdrawing his fingers, he stared at her from between her legs, eyes dark, before sucking her juices from each finger. She gaped at him for a moment, the aftermath of her orgasm still coursing through her before she dragged him back up, pushing his shorts free and taking him into her palm as he toed them the rest of the way off.

Regulus cursed as she pumped his cock with her fingers, his lips finding hers, and she could taste herself on his tongue when she deepened the kiss.

"I need you," he groaned against her lips, the words fluttering in her heart, and she aligned his hardness with her entrance.

Without hesitation he buried himself inside of her, his stormy eyes shuttering as she sucked in a sharp breath. Meeting her gaze again he began to move, thrusting deep inside and filling her.

Arching into him, Hermione dragged her hands down the muscles of his back, rolling her head to the side when his lips found the juncture of her collarbone.

Her heart chased an anxious cadence at the feel of him, his bare skin on hers, lips brushing hers idly as his hands sought her curves with a reverence she hadn't expected.

With each thrust, each roll of his hips against hers, Hermione felt emotion well inside of her, kissing him deeper as her nails caught his shoulder blades. She felt her body begin to tense again, release building in her nerves and her muscles as she curled her legs around his hips.

Regulus pushed harder, escalating in pace and intensity, driving her still closer to the edge.

Her orgasm crashed upon her with a cry, arching into him as wave upon wave of pleasure swept through her. Several thrusts later he followed with a groan, stilling as he buried his face into her neck, his breath warm on her skin.

Withdrawing, he collapsed alongside her, and Hermione cast non-verbal contraceptive and cleaning spells before catching his stare. Regulus eyed her like he had a secret, his lips curving with a soft smile.

His skin was damp against hers and he planted a kiss to her forehead as Hermione felt her eyes slip shut, a smile lingering on her lips as she drifted to sleep in his embrace.

* * *

Sunday morning arrived, quiet and somber with a chill in the air.

Hermione had spent the majority of Saturday in the flat with Regulus, enjoying what remained of their time together, although in the evening they had gone to visit Sirius so Regulus could say goodbye before leaving the next day.

Then they'd returned to the flat once more, insatiable for one another, and Hermione was thoroughly worn out by the time she crawled out of bed on Sunday.

It was strange to consider how much had changed since the day she had ventured out of London to chase an obscure magical tether that led her to the man now by her side.

Her heart felt heavy at the thought of saying goodbye so soon, even though she knew he was only an Apparition trip away. And once he was able to connect the fireplace in his cottage to the Floo network, it would be easy enough to see one another on a regular basis.

Still, she had grown so accustomed to having her in her space, and they'd fallen into rhythms and routines with more ease that she could have expected.

Regulus emerged from his room, his pack slung over one shoulder. He'd regained enough of his magic to practice simple spells and Hermione had hope that he would be fully capable again in no time. After all, she still had to teach him to cast his Patronus.

He lingered for a moment by the bookshelf, and Hermione walked up alongside, realising he was eyeing the carved wooden otter he had given her at the fair. Now that she knew him better, the intricate details only reminded her of the care and patience she had come to know from him.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked quietly.

Although he hadn't mentioned whether he intended to reintegrate into wizarding society, she had presumed given his intent to return to his Muggle community that he was happy to carry on as he had been before.

Regulus shrugged, nudging her in the shoulder. "So I've been told, I have a fence to paint. Beyond that, I haven't decided yet." He met her stare, lips twitching. "All I know is I couldn't possibly work at the Ministry for any length of time."

A grin spread across her lips and she breathed, "No, I can't imagine that would suit you very well."

"I'm also told," Regulus went on, "I have a standing invitation to Friday dinner."

Hermione tucked into his side, pleased that he'd come to connect with her friends and that he had discovered his family again. "Good. Because I'm going to need a date."

He only brushed his lips against her temple.

Turning to face her, he murmured, "I'm going to miss tripping over you, love."

"I'll miss your mediocre tea," she whispered.

"Hey!" Scowling at her, he pulled her into his side with a tight squeeze. "My tea is excellent, thank you."

Hermione smiled in his hold, meeting his gaze. "Under-steeped."

"It is _not_."

Smile faltering, she withdrew from his embrace, straightening a piece of his hair for something to do with her hands. "Reg, I—" She cut herself off, a breath hitching in her throat as she glanced away, swiping at a tear that threatened to break free.

"I love you," he said quietly, and her eyes snapped back to his, seeking the truth in his stormy grey gaze.

Moisture broke from her eyes and she didn't move to stop it this time. She only breathed, "I love you too."

"And," he went on, sucking in a breath, "I expect plenty of Floo calls and Apparition trips."

Nodding voraciously, Hermione dragged her lower lip between her teeth. "Same. We can make it work, yeah?"

"Yeah." Adjusting his pack, he offered a thin press of his lips. "I suppose I should get on the road."

Thinking back to their stilted, uncomfortable trip into London, she smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. He deepened the kiss for only a moment before drawing back.

"Have a safe trip," she whispered, unable to keep the tremble from her voice.

Regulus only stared at her for a long moment, fidgeting with one of her curls, before his lips twitched with that smirk that brought everything within her to life. He asked, "You're not coming for the drive?"

Meeting the sparkle in his gaze, Hermione felt a fluttering of hope deep within her being. He was the one she wanted, and she would do whatever she could to make it work. Joy crept up into her heart as she grabbed her bag. "Of course I am."

His returning smile set her soul alight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hi hello everyone, only the epilogue is left! You've all made sharing this crazy little story such a wonderful experience, and I'm honestly humbled by how many of you have come along for the ride. I wasn't expecting much out of this rare pair fic and it means so much that you're all enjoying it. See you in a few days!
> 
> Alpha love and hugs and squishes to LadyKenz347.


	10. Chapter 10

_Six Months Later_

Gazing at the scene surrounding her, Hermione pressed her fingers to her temples even as she fought off a smile.

Their standing Friday night dinner at Grimmauld Place had devolved into a wild night of too much Firewhiskey after Sirius and Regulus had devised a complicated game involving the Black ancestral portraits. Shortly thereafter, the intricate rules had crumbled, leaving them swigging the spiced liquor every time a portrait said something derisive.

Once Harry and Theo joined in, there had been no hope for it, and Hermione found herself snickering at the bemused expression on Andromeda's face as she observed the chaos.

"Considering the pedigree of those in this room," Andromeda said idly, taking a sip of her wine, "this is quite barbaric."

Hermione snickered, shaking her head as she met Regulus' glassy stare across the room. "You can't tell me you're surprised."

"That I am not," Andromeda conceded, her lips curving into a smile as she watched her cousins before her grey eyes slid to meet Hermione's. "Are you sure you want to live with him?"

Feeling Regulus' gaze linger on her, she turned back to the older woman. "We already _have_ lived together, remember? It worked out well—and if I'm honest, I think we've both missed it. It'll be nice, being so close again."

At a loud, fragile clattering, they both winced. Hermione peered across the room, wondering what sort of antique heirloom they might have just smashed.

"I know Reggie has," Andromeda went on, an innocent expression plastered on her face. "That boy's so smitten with you I'm surprised he hasn't asked you to marry him already."

Colour bloomed in her cheeks and Hermione glanced away, taking a gulp of her drink. "I can't imagine that to be the case. He hasn't brought it up at any rate."

Andromeda merely offered a flicker of her brows. "You know I've long considered you family already."

"Well," Hermione hedged, warmth creeping up her throat, "there's been plenty to do with family going on around here lately. I don't think even Reg anticipated how close he and Sirius would become."

"They were close as boys," Andromeda said thoughtfully. "Walburga always sought to drive them apart because Sirius dared have a mind of his own."

Observing the drunken group, she watched as Sirius grasped Regulus' shoulder, a broad grin chasing across his face. Regulus laughed at something, jabbing an elbow into his brother's ribcage. To her own surprise, Hermione found moisture peeking at the corners of her eyes.

"It's wonderful that Sirius has recovered so well," she said softly.

She found Andromeda's stare on her once more, a quiet vulnerability in the woman's gaze. "You brought them both back to me, Hermione. After losing Ted, and then Nymphadora and Remus—" Andromeda hesitated, swallowing and gazing up towards the ceiling as she clasped Hermione's hand within her own. "It's been wonderful having family around again."

Touched, Hermione offered a smile.

Another loud crash sounded across the room and they both looked up, startled from the moment. From where Hermione sat, it appeared as if Theo had fallen and taken a vase with him. Andromeda only chuckled. "Perhaps it's time we pull those four apart before they trash the entire house." She cast Hermione a crafty sidelong glance. "Don't go easy on him tomorrow."

"I won't," Hermione quipped. "He's helping me move, and at this rate he'll be cursing himself the whole time."

As they rose to their feet, Andromeda gave Hermione a quick embrace before moving forward to put an end to the chaos. Moments later, Regulus pulled her into his arms, planting a sloppy kiss to her temple.

"Come on, Reg," she breathed, a smile curling her lips as she found his hand with her own. "It's time to go home."

* * *

"Hermione."

Startled, Hermione glanced up from her book. Almost instantly she rolled her eyes as she met the iridescent stare of Regulus' sea lion Patronus hovering before her. It implored weakly, "Help me."

She turned the page in her book, snickering to herself, and called out, "You brought this upon yourself!"

Several minutes later she heard grumbling and Regulus emerged from the bedroom, clad only in his shorts, his hair sticking every direction. He fired her a scowl when she offered a bright smile and dragged a hand down his face.

"Have you got any hangover draught here?"

Considering the thought for a moment, she mused, "The potion supplies are already packed, I'm afraid."

Eyeing the collection of shrunken boxes along the far wall, she offered a banal shrug.

"No," he choked, wincing, before leaving the room. Moments later he returned, pointing at her. "This isn't _my_ doing—the blasted game was Sirius' idea."

"Right," Hermione murmured under her breath as he vanished again, and shortly after she heard the shower running. Smiling to herself, she drew a small vial from her pocket and laid it on the coffee table for him to find when he emerged, before moving into the kitchen to prepare a quick breakfast.

They would have a long day ahead of them, and she didn't intend to deal with Regulus' hangover the entire time.

* * *

It had taken several trips but by the time evening fell, they'd moved the last of Hermione's possessions into Regulus' cottage and cleaned out her flat, and she sunk into the sofa with a sense of peace settled in her heart.

It hadn't been the easiest decision to leave London, but since Regulus had connected the fireplace in his cottage to the Floo Network, it was simple for her to get to work. His home was significantly larger and nicer than her flat, and over time she had come to prefer the quiet solitude over the bustle of London.

She loved the nearby Muggle community as well, and she knew how important it was to him to maintain certain aspects of the life he'd cultivated.

Although they'd been living apart, it had reached the point where they spent more nights together than not at one place or the other, and when Regulus had suggested they move in together again, it had been Hermione's idea to ultimately keep the cottage.

They hadn't spoken directly of the possibility, but several offhand comments had hinted at the fact that he wasn't as opposed to the thought of children as he'd once let on. Hermione looked forward to starting a family with him one day, but she found she wasn't in any rush.

He'd rearranged the smallest bedroom into a potions lab and split his time between his wooden projects and freelance brewing for St Mungo's and a handful of apothecaries.

And finally, just days before her birthday, he'd painted the fence.

She had seen the change from when they first met, and over time with the more she had learned about him, the deeper she'd fallen.

Watching the way he and Sirius had seamlessly folded back into one another's lives and easily integrated with her friends had mended her heart in ways she never could have imagined.

"I can't believe you're finally living here," Regulus announced, drawing her from her thoughts as he settled at her side, wrapping his arms around her in a tight squeeze. His grey eyes shone in her favourite way that spoke to the joy he'd found.

Tucking herself into his chest, Hermione smiled. "I'm excited."

He gazed at her for a moment before planting a kiss to her lips, his tongue grazing hers for just a moment before he pulled away. "I would say we should have a drink to celebrate but—" He offered an apologetic grimace, drawing a bright laugh from her.

Rarely had she seen him drink to excess, and never to the point he had reached the night before with the others; Hermione nudged him in the side, a teasing smile on her lips. "Perhaps a pot of tea will do."

"Tea is good," he said, flashing her a grin. "Under-steeped though you might find it."

It was an argument he'd never let go, but she still insisted his tea was weaker than hers.

Extricating himself from her hold, he rose to put the kettle on, and Hermione could feel the warmth of his stare across the room. Rising from her seat, she joined him, accepting a cup of tea when he offered, brandishing his own.

"To you," he mused, smirking, "and that for whatever reason you chose me."

"To _us_ ," she corrected. "And to creating a future together."

Regulus pressed his cup to hers, but didn't withdraw it. "The future," he amended quietly, "and learning from the past." His stare lingered hard on her for a long moment as they each took a sip, long enough that Hermione frowned, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

Gently, he snagged her cup and set it on the table with his, then took her hand into his.

A breath caught in the back of her throat with something like fuzzy recognition as Regulus dipped his chin, his grey eyes cautious.

"I know you think I'm crazy," he murmured, dragging his thumb across her knuckles. His lips tugged with a wry smirk. "And I probably am, but… I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

As he reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small box, her eyes stung with moisture and she gasped, "You're crazy."

"But sometimes, Hermione," he went on quietly, his expression softening, "you just know."

Hermione's heart raced an anxious, desperate cadence in her chest as Regulus dropped to one knee, still holding her hand in his, and snapped open the box. Her gaze barely registered the ring settled in its cushion because his eyes drifted up to find hers again. "Will you marry me?"

A tear broke from one eye, coursing down her cheek as she swiped the moisture away, clapping a hand to her mouth. Despite Andromeda's words the night before, Hermione had never _expected_ —

"Yes," she choked with a bit of a sniffle. "Reg, of course."

With a breathtaking grin, he stared up at her for a moment longer before rising and pulling her into his arms. Hermione buried her face in his chest, her tears absorbing into his shirt, before he drew back, pressing a lingering kiss to her mouth.

Then he lifted the stunning ring from the box, sliding it onto her finger with careful reverence. She found herself eyeing the jewel for a moment before she leaned in again, planting another kiss to his lips. "I can't wait," she whispered against his mouth before drawing back. "I love you."

For a long time, she had wondered whether she could ever find someone she wanted to share her life with. And when Regulus had come along, fitting into her life _just so_ , she had known. Now, he would be with her forever.

"I love _you_ ," he returned, trailing his fingertips along her cheekbone. A slow, devastating smile spread across his face, stealing with it her heart. "Welcome home, Hermione."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Well, that's it! Thanks for reading everyone. For my regular readers who came along for the ride, I'm honoured by your support. And for anyone who came along for Regulus, thanks for taking a chance on this little story. Mostly I write Dramione with the occasional rare pair, but I had so much fun writing these two I can see trying it again someday. :)
> 
> I'll have another short-ish piece (10-12 chapters) coming out soon on top of continued updates for Nocturnus, and if you're interested in what's upcoming, come check me out on Tumblr at indreamsink. I'll be doing a giveaway soon!
> 
> Mega love and hugs to LadyKenz347, who not only inspired my interest in Regulus, but was amazingly supportive of this story from the first word. MWAH.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


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